Finding Harry
by Wayward Fool
Summary: AU, Harry Potter needs a new perspective. After sixteen years working as an agent, he is forced into finally entering school as a sixth year. He plans on finally being himself, but after living his whole life as an agent, who is he? Chapter nine up!
1. Agent Sparks

**Agent Sparks**

AU, Harry Potter needs a new perspective. After sixteen years working as an agent, he is forced into finally entering school as a sixth year. He plans on finally being himself, but after living his whole life as an agent, who is he?

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Slowly moving his left arm, he winced, riding out the pain which moving it caused. He opened his eyes, finding himself in an unfamiliar room, and immediately let his magic roam to determine his situation. He was in a grey stone cell, old and dried blood littered the floor at intervals, obviously a well used room. He noted the many wards on the door and grimaced, noting they were advanced, but to the experienced mind easily manageable. Next he took note of his own condition.

Broken arm, cuts, abrasions and bruises all over his body, and a very tender area on his lower stomach. Nothing too serious, he assumed he'd been stunned. Groaning, he focused his magic on his abdomen, healing the internal bruising, before directing it to his arm. He knew _they_ were watching and decided he had to do this fast.

Sending out his hovering magic once more, he searched for any familiar magical signatures, but found none in his immediate vicinity, which was a blessing, he'd thought his comrades had been captured also.

What he did sense, however, were five magical signatures moving toward him, he estimated they'd arrive in one minute. Sighing in frustration, he leapt up, sweeping his black hair from his face and searching mentally for his wand. It was on an upper level of what he now understood to be the Ministry, in a small room occupied by one other magical signature.

Using his wandless magic, he blasted a hole directly above him, knowing there were seven wizards in the room, and used his enhanced abilities to jump to the upper level, startling the wizards. He was now in the office section of the Atrium, and he wasted no time running off to the room his wand lay in. He blasted the door and ran inside, swamping the man who had run from the blast, swiftly knocking him out with a swift blow to the back of the neck.

He collected his wand and ran toward the Floo Fires, protected from the curses finally being thrown at him with a strong Shield Charm he'd invented, the _Protegi_ a variant of the _Protego_. He yelled into the fire "Diagon Alley!" being whisked away, and immediately Apparated to seven different random points before arriving at his Safehouse, entering the Unplotable and _Fidilus_protected house in a quiet street just outside London city.

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"I'm back!" He removed his glamour and hung his bloodstained coat, smiling at the smaller old woman who came rushing down the hall.

"Harry! Perfect! What's that? 6 hours? A new record! You didn't let your glamour slip? The clients were watching and seemed pleased!"

"Nope, I was fine Madam Weir. They still think they caught Dably, whom escaped in record time, as usual. So, are the clients in the conference room?"

"Yes, Harry, now, they'll be wanting to hire you after that, I'm sure they will look past your age, as your experience and reputation has proceeded you yet again. Finally, another job actually worthy of my best agent!" She spoke as they made their way toward a sparsely furnished room, with enough chairs for the two men, Harry and Madam Weir. Harry enlarged a mirror from his pocket and checked his appearance, pronouncing a quick cleansing spell on his face and hair.

Brushing his medium-length black hair from his face, he entered the room after Madam Weir, his face a mask of blankness.

"Gentlemen! This is Sparks, our best field agent. He'll gladly answer any questions you have, and will be taking your task."

Both men looked at him critically, and nodded, creating text to flow above their heads.

_He is acceptable. He must investigate __Noakes__ for a week, bring us the information, and depending on what he finds he will either assassinate __the Prince or act as envoy. _

Harry nodded, and replied, "850 Galleons for the surveillance, 900 for a kill, and 1500 for an Emissary mission._"_

Both men nodded and walked from the room, leaving a packet of documents on the table. Madame Weir grinned and looked up at Harry.

"Brilliant! That's a hefty pay check for you!"

"And a large portion for you too Madam." Harry smiled. Madame Weir was his Mother, the woman who, since he was three, had taken care of him, trained him and taught him about his growing magical abilities. At sixteen, Harry was the youngest and most qualified agent in Europe, a secret weapon for the wealthy and connected wizards and Muggles alike. Weir Relations was a small Agent House, with only Harry, a potions master and an apprenticed agent in employment.

Sighing, he left Weir to the paperwork as he went up to the top level of their base, passing the apprentice agent in the hall. The fourteen-year-old girl, Dust, stopped in her tracks and smiled at Harry, going red in the face. Chuckling, he entered a Potions workroom and grinned at the woman who was working furiously by a cauldron.

"No Harry, don't disturb me, I have only two more minutes before this potion thickens and I have to add these ingredients in quick succession!" Harry sniggered and perched on another workbench, watching her work.

After the potion thickened she let out a pent up breath and grinned, leaving the cauldron to cool.

"Just finished making thirty vials-full of Steam-Screen, perfect for Muggle surveillance cameras!"

Harry smiled and got down to give her a hug.

"Well done Chase. Another mission gained for me, that'll be helpful, keep me afloat until summer is over." Chase sighed sadly.

"You have to go to school after this summer." It was a fact. Weir had given him as much teaching as she could, but felt he would need "the school experience" for the more serious customers to take him seriously. Therefore, she'd sent him to Hogwarts a few weeks ago, told the school he was to sit his OWLs then and return in the new year with the rest of the students. Not something he was looking forward to.

"Chase, don't worry, I'll be fine! I can still come back for missions and such, my godfather left me with a box of his old possessions when he was forced to give me up to those Muggles, and in it he left me a Map. I can get out of the castle easily. Come on, it's me! I'll visit!"

Chase nodded tiredly but smiled.

"So, you nervous 'bout it? In a weeks time you'll be Lord Potter, and after that, you'll be sixth year student Harry Potter, Lost-Boy-Who-Lived. Guess you'll have to hide your past too, can't let on about all you're secrets."

Harry nodded, mulling over what she'd said. He already assumed he'd be in Slytherin house; he was well suited to it despite its bad reputation and his heritage. He'd also contacted Gringotts already and set up with the Goblins to be prepared for his "re-entry into society".

"Anyway, I came here for another reason. I wanted to know if you'd completed those potions I'd asked for."

"Yes, they're all here. The Complete Collection of Healing, Concealment and Poisons known to wizard kind, with quite a few natural powders from Muggle medicine." Harry beamed.

"Thanks Chase, you're a lifesaver!" He kissed her cheek and ran from the room, shrinking the large trunk to pocket-size as he went.

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His Birthday came and went, with a small extra allowance for Harry from Weir, another "Complete Collection" from Chase, but full of Prank Potions, and three ancestral throwing stars from Dust, who blushed furiously.

The day ended with part one of his mission completed, Prince Noakes of the Austrian Wizarding Hierarchy had indeed been truthful to the two gentlemen and Harry had now only to travel to him and hand over a letter himself, with polite smiles and bows.

Harry lay on his bed silently after dinner, wondering in Hogwarts would be as restful and simple as his life at Weir Relations.

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_Author's Note: Please Review and tell me what you think!_


	2. The Beginning

**The Beginning**

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The Platform was noisy, that's all he had to comment on it. Visibility of potential security risks was at a minimum, due to the fact there were so many students running in, families clogging the platform and numerous Apparation and Floo points. Harry was really regretting his promise to catch the train like a "normal" student.

Harry had entered the platform alone, and his long black cloak, black hair and observant green eyes were making the families around him shoo their children onto the train faster. H didn't exactly look sixteen. His clothes were cut to make him seem older, his hair made his cheekbones more pronounced and his fringe covered his forehead (and conveniently, his scar) so his eyes were stark against it.

He shrugged off the attention and made his way onto the train, stopping in an unoccupied compartment. His trunk was in his pocket, having being shrunk, and his owl cage was rattling against his broom, also in his pocket. His absently stroked his left forearm.

He had only a short wait before a whistle was blown and shrieks were heard, the train lurching into motion. He looked out the window and noticed they'd already moved well away from the platform, now in the outskirts of London.

The compartment door opened and five students came in, talking animatedly between themselves, until a tall red-head finally noticed the compartments only other occupant.

"Bugger, sorry about that, didn't notice you! Who are you anyway? New Defence Professor or something?" Harry quirked his brow and allowed a small smile to find its way to his lips.

"Not quite. I'm a new student, transfer." All five of the students exchanged quick looks before a bushy haired witch smiled warmly and held out a hand.

"Hermione Granger, Sixth year Gryffindor!" She grinned as if this was her best quality. He reluctantly took her hand.

"Harry Potter, new sixth year." Silence. Hermione looked slightly embarrassed for a moment before sitting down next to him, again with a wide smile.

"Oh really!? Where have you been! Of course, I've read _all_ about you, there have been so many theories surrounding your disappearance! And of course, you're sixteen now, and Lord Potter to boot! What house do you think you'll be in?" She said all this very fast and Harry couldn't help but grin at her slightly out-of-breath speech.

"Uh, living with my guardian, I have also read all the theories, many of which are highly amusing, yes I'm sixteen, yes I'm Lord Potter and I believe I'll be in Slytherin." Another long silence.

"_Slytherin?!_" The younger girl with red hair exclaimed, "What makes you think _that?_ Honestly, who _wants_ to be a Slytherin?" Harry smiled.

"Uh, me. I think it suits me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not typically evil, but in my line of work, you have to be cunning." _Crap._ How had he let _that_ slip!

"Your line of work?" this came from a tall goofy looking boy.

"Err... yes." Again, there was that silent exchange, before the small dreamy looking blonde smiled.

"You're working with Fudge silencing the wizards who advocate for the freeing of Neutkins, aren't you?" Harry blinked. Finally the red-headed boy spoke.

"Harry, this is Luna Lovegood, fifth year Ravenclaw, Neville Longbottom, Sixth year Gryffindor, Ginny Weasley, fifth year Gryffindor and my sister and I'm Ron Weasley, sixth year Gryffindor." Harry nodded but instead of responding stood up.

"Well, I best be off to change." And he walked out, looking for the loo and secretly just wanting to escape. He'd never really had to talk overly much to strangers.

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"And finally, our newest sixth year student, Harry Potter will be sorted." Harry rolled his eyes at the silence and stares that followed him as the Hat settled over his eyes.

_Potter eh? Usually I wouldn't have to think about a Potter being anywhere but Gryffindor, but I see you are a bit tougher to place. __You've definitely led an interesting life boy. Courage you have plenty of, but also a cunning and perceptiveness valued in the Green house. I see intelligence in abundance, but Ravenclaw would be a horrible fit for you. Loyalty, but it seems you only have it for a certain amount of people. Agent, spy, emissary, master wizard, national icon, Lord, half-blood. Many titles you have, but I really cannot place you. I know you lean toward Slytherin, but Gryffindor would be as good a match as Slytherin. And I see you've met some fine __Gryffindors__ already._

_Uh, with all respect Hat, __the__Gryffindors__ I met seemed a bit too, __err__ extroverted and open. I'm not like that._

_But you could be! You have such potential to be a kind friend and caring person!_

_Oh, well, I really am not sure what house I want to be in now. __Gryffindor__ sounds alright, when put like that. I want to have friends._

_But in Slytherin you could have followers and friends, depending on what you chose. They are power hungry but not completely oblivious to their own feelings of __camaraderie__. Most don't see it their whole life, but Slytherins make life-long friends as they only choose people most compatible to themselves._

_So are you giving me the choice?_

_Usually, I would not. But you're old enough to know who you want to be. Who do you want to be__ Harry Potter?_

"SLYTHERIN!" Harry lifted the hat off his head and was met but a hushed silence from the rest of the Hall, but a polite applause started at the Slytherin table. Smirking, he left the dais without a word and glared at a little first year, who immediately moved so he could sit down next to a pretty brunette.

"Well! Now that we are all sorted, tuck in!" Harry's eyebrows went up slightly as the plates filled with food, and he was nudged, only to find it was the brunette.

"Mr Potter, pass the carrots please." He nodded and smiled, handing the bowl to her.

"And what is your name Miss?"

"Daphne Greengrass, sixth year. Such a surprise to see you at Hogwarts this year Mr Potter, you have been missing for some time."

"Harry, please. Yes, I've taken private training for most of my life." Soon Daphne had started speaking across the table to a tall coffee-skinned boy, and Harry tuned out, eating and surveying the Hall in silence.

"So, Potter, do you want to dorm with me and my friend here?" The other boy clapped another, smaller sandy-blonde boy on the shoulder.

"I suppose. Sorry, I don't know either of your names, you may call me Harry."

"Well I'm Blaise Zabini and this is Dale Baine, call me Blaise, you may as well call him Dale. We're both finished, so is Daphne here, want to come with us and we'll show you your dorm?"

"Sure."

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"So, before we take you up to our dorms, we have to let you make an informed decision." Blaise nodded solemnly to Daphne, Dale watching Harry's face intently. He got the feeling these kids were a little strange.

"We're all outcasts, us and Millicent Bulstrode, you'll meet her, she always gets to Hogwarts late. Anyway, all four of us have gotten on the bad side of Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Self-Proclaimed King. He's in our year. He's rich, handsome and a total bastard. But if you don't want pranks being pulled, your dorm trashed, being the slime of the school..." Daphne looked up at him after her speech, obviously trying not to look too hopeful. She obviously expected him to leave them alone.

But they'd spoken to him kindly, he was even starting to like them, they'd offered him a room and they all seemed to accept he wasn't about to go blabbing about his past. They'd shown him some trust, his diplomatic training told him to give them some back.

Flashing a winning smile, he clapped a staring Dale on the back. "Of course I still want to dorm with you! So, your rooms get trashed? If you don't mind, I like my privacy, so would it be okay to ward our rooms, and key them so only us four, plus Millicent and anyone else you trust, can get in?"

All three students beamed.

"Good! Well, come on, I'll show you our Dorm, then Daphne will show you hers and Millicent's."

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Clearly they had had a rough five years at Hogwarts.

The room stank of god-knows-what (it smelled terrible, whatever it was), there was only two little, beaten and uncomfortable-looking beds with shabby coverings, and a small fire, along with walls littered with dents, scorch marks and slime running from the roof, probably from shifted stones and a heavy body of water above them.

"Well, this will never do." All three heads turned toward him and he smiled again, whipping his wand out and firing numerous spells around the room. He cleaned. He transfigured. He summoned. He Vanished. He lit. He expanded. He created.

And within a matter of moments, the four of them stood in a whole different room. Fluffy comfortable lounges, three sturdy and comfortable beds, clean new green hangings, clean walls, black rugs, silver ornaments, white workbenches, a larger fire... it was the epitome of comfort for a dungeon dorm room.

The door opened and a rather tall, sturdy girl walked in saying, "I'm here, god the Floo network is a nightmare today..." And she bumped right into Harry and looked up slightly. She then blushed furiously.

"Err, sorry." She looked around and gasped, "Wrong room? Guys, what are you doing in this man's room?" Harry chuckled and held out a hand.

"Harry Potter, Blaise and Dale's new room mate. I just re-arranged the room a bit." She absently took his hand, whilst looking past him to the still-dumbstruck teens. "_Harry Potter?"_ he noticed Millicent miming. Chuckling, he extracted his hand.

"Well, I'm off to take a shower, and I'll probably clean up in there too." That said, he left the mute students for the connecting door to the bathroom, and set to work fixing it with silver fittings and tasteful white tiles.

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Harry had always been an early riser. He silently padded his way over to the bathroom and shut the door, glaring at his own reflection. He didn't suit his surroundings. He had rough black stubble covering his face, a long-ish black shabby hair-cut, his scars stood out starkly on his neck, the one on his forehead still covered over. All was done to make him look unnoticeable and older, but in this environment, it made him increasingly noticeable, much older (Defence Professor! Honestly!) and shifty. He needed a hair-cut and a shave.

Taking out his wand, his used the severing charm to cut his hair so it was shorter, sticking up all over the place but quite attractively so. His stubble was gone with the flick of a wrist and down-stroke. He looked himself over in the mirror and realised he actually looked sixteen.

He left the bathroom sometime later, washed and clad in a towel, into a room filled with four laughing Slytherins.

"Hey guys, I see you're finally up." They all looked over and the girl's jaws dropped, taking in his very muscular bare chest, wet and tousled hair, surprisingly short and his clean-shaven face. But what caught the attention of all four students were the scars.

There was, of course, the famous lightning-bolt. But this was not the most interesting, or only, scar of the sixteen-year-old's body.

A long scar ran from his left armpit down his side, ending just above the towel he wore around his lower body. His hands and arms were flecked with smaller cuts, his left arm sporting a large scar from elbow to wrist.

His whole torso was cut in some way, and a few bruises were visible, recent and looking a lovely shad of purple.

"Oh Harry! Where did you get all those scars and bruises?" Daphne ran over to him, touching his torso and tracing one of his scars, Harry emitting a small wriggle and moving back.

"Hey that tickles!" He turned and walked to his bed, and Dale shouted, "Hey is that a tattoo?!"

Indeed, someone had finally noticed the ring of names surrounding his right bicep. MOONY-PADFOOT-PRONGS. He sighed and called out from behind his hangings "Yes! It's not my only one!" He only had one other, a small lily flower on his ankle.

He emerged shortly wearing dark blue jeans and a black button-up shirt, and sat on a chair, facing the others who had resumed their places on the lounges.

"So, since its Saturday, you want to check out Hogwarts? It's pretty confusing." Millicent smiled toward Harry, not blushing this time.

"Sure, I did want to have a look around today, and I'll ward the room properly before we go."

They spent the rest of the day visiting every floor of Hogwarts, Harry receiving many strange and questioning looks as he walked.

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_Authors Note: Thanks to everyone who has either reviewed, read or is watching this story, It makes me indescribably happy to have gotten so many hits after just one day!_

_I wasn't so sure I'__d continue writing __t__his __fic__, I'm still working out __its__ direction__, but I got such a positive response I'll keep it going!__ Reviews would be lovely, and if you've got a __criticism__, a suggestion, or a pairing you want to see __happening__ (although I have an idea already)__, don't hesitate to write it out!_

_Sadly, I'll even accept flames if this __fic__ deserves it!_

_Happy reading,_

_**Fool**_

_P.S I do not have a beta, so it's my own spell-checking and Word spell check, so I apologise in advance if there is a mistake, I _did_ try my best to spot them all! _


	3. Conversations and Revelations

**Conversations and Revelations **

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Monday morning would be Harry's first time attending a class, and outwardly he seemed completely calm. Inwardly, however, he was nervous, having never had a different teacher, never having trained in the presence of other students, and never really had to deal with detentions, house points and group projects.

His first class that morning would be Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin, also another reason he was nervous. He'd seen Professor Lupin's shocked face when he'd entered the Great Hall, and Harry still hadn't spoken to him. He'd probably already owled his godfather, another conversation that would be tough. All he could remember of Sirius was that they had owned a large black dog. And a house, they'd had a small house.

"So, first day of classes, you ready?" Daphne asked excitedly. They were currently sitting at the Slytherin Table for breakfast, and Harry had been eating his fill even though he felt like running to the toilet.

"Err, yeah, should be fine. Double DADA and Charms, followed by Potions? Easy." As he finished, Blaise looked ready to say something but was interrupted by the Owl Post flying in. This was apparently a regular occurrence, hundreds of birds pelting through and seeking their targets, upsetting bowls and eating breakfasts.

Harry looked up and spotted Madam Weir's owl, and two others heading his way. He cleared a space in front of him just as all three skidded to a halt.

He selected Madam Weir's note first and ripped it open, hoping for some semblance of normal to be back in his life.

_Sparks,_

_You have been requested. You leave tomorrow at seven p.m. Be at the Safe House at 6 p.m. for briefing._

_Hope you are enjoying yourself and gaining knowledge,_

_Weir._

Harry smiled and slipped the note back inside its envelope, tucking it in his pocket. Yes, he'd finally have a little normalcy. He glanced at the other two owls and didn't recognise either, so he took the large barn owl's missive first.

_Harry,_

_We have had no contact since you left my care, but I have thought of you often and wished you could have kept in touch. I would like, if it isn't a burden, to meet you once more, to start up perhaps a friendship? You are like a son to me, despite our time apart. _

_Consider my request, I would settle for an owl every now and then so that we can get to know each other once more._

_Your Godfather,_

_Sirius Black_

So, Lupin had told Sirius. Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't been expecting it. But what did he want? Did he want to meet him? Owl him? It was too much for his head to master, that he could once again have a real father. He tucked the note in the same pocket as his mission.

The last owl he realised was a post owl, one he hadn't requested. Puzzled, he looked up at the Hall and saw more than a few faces turned toward him. Frowning, he paid the owl and opened the paper and almost growled at the story.

_**HARRY POTTER HAS RETURNED – BOY-WHO-LIVED ATTENDS HOGWARTS**_

_Exclusive story by Rita Skeeter_

_Harry Potter, the boy made famous for defeating the Lord Voldemort, has finally returned__to the Wizarding World__ and to Hogwarts, but where has our hero grown up? What is he like? _

_This reporter interviewed students at Hogwarts last weekend and naturally, they asked to remain anonymous._

_"Harry Potter was sorted into Slytherin, can you believe it?" exclaimed one near-hysterical girl._

_"He's unkempt, tall, and has scars all over him. He looks dark and unwelcoming. He has an attitude and doesn't speak to anyone but the most troublesome of the Slytherins. I heard he rearranged the whole of Slytherin house, moments after entering it. I wouldn't trust him."_

_'Slytherin!' I hear you say. Yes, our hero is a man of many talents and has a shady background, not at all like the boy we were expecting to find. But there is one group singing his praises, if you want to believe they have an opinion at all._

_"He's very business-like and courteous, the perfect gentleman and has been a customer of ours for years." A spokes-goblin recently said. _

_Well, he has the goblins behind him, but does he have you? I know I'll be very cautious when speaking to the new Slytherin boy-hero._

Harry's hands were clenched by the time he'd finished reading and he looked over the Great Hall again, noticing many more stares than was casual. He looked to Blaise who had also received a _Prophet_and saw him smiling.

"_...won't speak to anyone but the most troublesome of the Slytherins._ Hear that guys? We're troublesome!" He laughed and Harry's mood lightened. He really shouldn't take it too seriously. He was comfortable here, wasn't he?

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The door opened and a shabbily dressed Professor Lupin strode in, smiling and nodding to familiar faces. They had DADA with the Gryffindors, much to the mutual disgust of both houses, but it didn't stop the class from sitting straight in their chairs as the Professor walked in.

"Morning class! First lesson of the term, aren't we all lucky? Now, we have a lot to get through this year and so little time! In the past years we've focused mainly on the Dark Creatures but today we will begin on curses and deflections. To begin with we will be starting with basics. Yes, I know," Lupin said, staring at the Gryffindor boy, Ron, "you all will have learnt these spells, but how many of you can confidently say you've used them enough to be able to use them in battle?" He glanced around the classroom, eyes resting on Harry who had raised his hand slightly. He looked around and realised he was the only one in the class to do so.

So much for not standing out.

"Mr Potter! I see you believe you have battle experience?" Obviously, the professor did not believe this.

"Yes." Lupin looked slightly taken aback before his smile once again graced his face.

"Care to demonstrate? Step out to the front of the classroom, Mr Potter, and I will call out spells randomly for you to preform at _this_ target." He gestured toward a newly-created large bulls-eye. Shrugging, he left his seat and took position, lazily holding his wand in his hand.

"The Disarming Charm!"

"Expelliarmus!"

And so Lupin continued, calling out spells from the Leg-locker Curse to the Pepper Breath Hex, each one Harry preformed with skill and ease. The last five spells however were serious tests, and not spells any sixteen year old should know. But he took the challenge.

"Constriction Jinx, Blood Whip Curse, Bone-Crushing Curse, Blood-Boil curse, Entrail Expelling Curse!" Lupin shouted these last and Harry preformed them, realising what he'd just cast moments later. The target was barely standing, crumbled, burnt and slimy.

"Mr Potter. Sit down. I wish to speak with you after the class." Harry turned and noticed every eye was on him, most held looks of horror and some respect.

"How the hell do you know all of them!? That must have been fifty curses in fifteen minutes Harry! Some of those are pretty Dark magic too..." Dale was looking up at him a bit fearfully, and Harry nodded, feeling horrible. Madam Weir had told him not to get noticed. He'd just ruined that plan.

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"Harry, I want you to tell me how you knew those spells." It wasn't a question.

"I'm sorry Professor Lupin, I can't tell you that." His face became softer.

"Harry that is very _serious_ magic. Where did you learn it? Harry, where have you been living all this time?" Desperation crept into his voice and Harry sighed.

"I'm sorry but I can't say. But I'm fine. I knew those curses because I needed them."

"Are the rumours of the scars true?" Harry started and looked up guiltily.

"Perhaps." Again, Professor Lupin frowned.

"Harry, I'm here for you if you ever need to talk. And I know that Sirius has already contacted you. We both hope you'll become our friend one day." Harry nodded uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry Professor, but I have Charms, may I go?" Lupin nodded and looked out the window. He was dismissed.

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"And I heard he used the Blood-Whip curse!"

"...he's handsome isn't he?"

"...Curse! I know! He must be..."

"Evil Slytherin git!"

Harry bore through the rumours, and even more alarmingly, the looks of longing and jealousy. Today was Tuesday, mission day, and Harry was looking forward to leaving the school already, having been there a total of four days.

"Hey Harry, you coming to dinner?" All of them had turned off toward the Hall for dinner, but it was already five-thirty and he had to be prepared for the meeting.

"Uh, no, I'm really quite tired; I think I'll head up to the Dorm." They all looked at each other then shrugged, turning toward the Hall.

Harry raced down to the dungeons and into his dorm, throwing open his large trunk. He changed into dark grey combat-pants and a black sweater, attaching his knife holsters to his ankles, arms, chest and waist.

Next he preformed a series of charms, warding his bed, creating an illusion of him sleeping in his bed and closed the curtains.

He then collected his spare wand and a pouch of money, and lastly collected the Marauder's Map.

The way to the passage to Hogsmeade was clear for the moment and he ran, not meeting anyone as all students usually attended Dinner. As he ran down the passage, he continually checked the anti-Apparation wards until he felt them no more, and Disapparated to Weir House.

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Madam Weir was waiting for him and she clapped him on the shoulder, leading him towards the Conference room. There were still rooms in Weir House he'd never been permitted to see, and as he passed them he would always try to sense something, _anything_ that would give him a clue as to what their purpose was but they were heavily warded.

"Harry! You've been assigned to a very important mission. A group wants some information held at a heavily guarded House in Ireland. You are to retrieve it and send them a message. Not a permanent one, just a reminder that they aren't very secure." Madam Weir looked at him significantly and he nodded. So, a little bloodshed tonight. He was used to it.

At five to seven Harry Disapparated to the location, which turned out to be a large Manor on the edge of a forest. He saw several wards coating the houses' doors and windows, but none on the Attic shuttered window. Glancing about, he saw sentries posted around the house, brazenly holding wands at the ready. Harry slipped past them all, reaching the house and casting a Disillusionment charm upon himself so that anyone glancing up at him would see nothing but the house itself.

He cast a silencing charm on the Attic and blasted the window, letting the glass and wood fall, reminding himself he was here to make a statement.

The files were on the second floor, two floors down from where he currently stood. He cancelled his Disillusionment charm and walked out of the room, seeing no-one walking down the hall. He took the stairs slowly, crossed the Hall and still he saw no trouble. As he walked toward the stairs however, a door opened on his left and a wizard stepped out, and as he went for his wand (not even calling out) Harry used a nasty Dark Arts spell which left his victim screaming silently, Harry had cast _Silencio _in conjunction with the spell. Sighing, he continued down to the second floor and found the file-room, guarded by two burly wizards.

Both were dispatched within moments, bound and bleeding on either side of the door. Harry selected the files needed, chose one file cabinet and set it alight, and left the way he'd come, meeting no more enemies.

-------------

Gary Monk sighed for what felt like the tenth time this shift. Guard duty was boring and tedious work, and the Master of the house had very potentially explosive files contained in the room he and his partner, Dean Beard, were standing in front of. He wondered, when his shift was finished in an hour, if his wife had made dinner already.

He heard the slightest of footfalls and turned, expecting to see Dean shifting, but another figure was walking silently toward them, wand out and what looked like blood spattered on his pants.

Quick as lightning, the man had hit Dean with a curse and petrified him, leaving him on the floor, stepped over him just as fast and dealt the same hand to Gary. The last thing he remembered before opening his eyes in a St Mungos ward, was the absent and cold look the young man had had. His eyes had been emotionless, those of a cold-hearted killer

-------------

He silently tip-toed into the dorm, walking past Blaise's bed silently before going to his trunk. He had just unlatched his waist-belt, full of knives, when he lost his grip, the belt falling to the floor with a loud _Clunk_. He cursed as both boys woke, each lighting the candles in the room with a flick of their wands. Both were wide awake.

"Where have you been? Did you really think you could fool us with that glamour?" Blaise was frowning at him, studying his clothing.

"You have blood all over you." Dale said calmly, and Harry looked down. Indeed, he had blood spatters on the bottom of his grey pants and on his chest.

Harry was speechless. He couldn't tell them what he'd been doing, but he also couldn't think up an acceptable lie.

"Go back to sleep, both of you. You don't have to worry about it."

"What!? How can you say that! We've known you for a total of four days and tonight you go out, lie to us and come back with knives and blood? Do you think we're stupid, that we'll let this pass? Tell us what you've done with your life Harry." Blaise was fuming, breathing heavily. Harry's anger boiled inside him, an after affect of his work. He put up a silver fog in his mind when he was on missions, making him calm, reasonable, but for hours after he still felt the affects of what he did, and he was almost always sick.

"NO! You don't want to know! _I_ don't want you to know! I shouldn't have to tell you! You barely know me! I'm Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived right? That's all I am to this world! I have a life outside this one, I have people that care for me and work that I enjoy and do well!" The beds were rattling and three of the candles had gone out. His heated words left both boys stunned, and Harry threw his shirt of and climbed into bed, brooding.

-------------

Harry did not sleep as he climbed into bed. Really, he thought about what he'd said rationally.

Did Madam Weir really care for him? Of course she did. But it wasn't a friendship, or even a partnership. She liked him well enough, he kept money in her pocket, but over the years, after he had grown out of his child-like state, they'd talked less and less about meaningless things and more and more about assassination attempts, spells to lame and kill someone and how to deal with the inevitable pain that his job would entail.

Did he really enjoy it? No. No he didn't. In fact, he hated it. He clouded his mind to take away rational thought. He mindlessly and continuously dealt with blood and death. He took away someone's right to live according to how much Harry thought the job would be worth, and the clients wishes. Yeah, he did it well. He was damn good at it. But how was that a good thing for a sixteen-year-old? He was _good_ at _killing_ people and stealing and "sending messages".

Tonight he had seriously injured three men who were only doing their jobs. Harry had only been doing his job. But why was it his job anyway? _Why_ had he been taken from Sirius at age three and put into the care of Madam Weir?

His thoughts troubled him so much that when he finally closed his eyes, he only saw flashes of red lights and red liquid in dark corridors.

-------------

He awoke fitfully and early as always. Forgoing his usual early-morning shower, he dressed in running shorts and a light singlet despite the growing cold and set out for the Hogwarts grounds, covered in mist.

Harry ran, trying desperately to clear his head of the images troubling him. He'd gone on his first mission at age twelve, starting as a thief. But one mission had gone badly, resulting in the loss of a limb for the guard. After that, seeing Harry's 'potential', he'd been given training and within a year, he was taking serious assignments. He'd killed for the first time three days before his fourteenth birthday.

He'd been taught everything about life. He'd had his first sexual encounter at fourteen. Madam Weir had decided he needed to get his "silly fantasies" out of the way, so as not to disillusion himself about what went on between a woman and a man. Since that time, he'd had casual encounters with several women on his jobs, women he never spoke to again or previous to them. He'd never had love. He'd had lessons in love.

His only friendship before coming to Hogwarts was Chase. She was thirty and he only sixteen, the age gap sometimes presented limits to their friendship.

And now he'd gone and yelled at the two people he least wanted to hurt. His magic had caused their beds to shake. Harry didn't know what to do about the situation now, whether to apologise or leave it a while.

He breathed deeply as he finished his run, realising he'd been outside for almost an hour. Sipping from a water bottle he'd brought out, he entered the castle, much to the excitement of the female population. Harry blushed deeply, it seemed that six a.m. was the time when most of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors went down to breakfast, and he saw many lingering looks directed at his chest, his tattoo and the visible scars, all with hints of longing.

He all but ran from their giggling and up to his dorm, hesitating at the door. What on earth was he going to say to make it up to them?

-------------

_A/N _

_Wow! That was an effort to get out and I wanted to throw in a lot more!_

_Thank you so much for astounding response to this story. It really puts a huge, goofy smile on my face when I see just how many people have viewed my story!_

_I know I haven't touched on pairings yet in this story, and I believe they will eventually scream for a bit of attention, but this story is "Finding Harry" not "Finding Harry's Partner" -_

_Reviews, as always would be greatly appreciated. Again, I'd like your view on where this story could be going, I'll be interested to see what you think will happen!_


	4. A Message Delivered

_Author's Note: I had an __overwhelming__ amount of views on my last chapter and I'm very appreciative of the people who are following FH! I'd also like to thank those who reviewed, I'm looking into some of those scenarios and you might find some of them in this chapter!_

_As to the anonymous reviewer, your input was neither appreciated nor needed. You obviously did not read the canon well enough__ (as we don't see the true Slytherin side, only the viewpoint of a largely-Gryffindor told story)__, or even read my story well. I would have sent you an email about the things you said in your review, but, alas, you remain anonymous and nameless to me._

_Now that the unpleasantness is over, on to the story!_

_**A Message Delivered**_

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He saw all four of his new-found friends deep in conversation by the fire, all of whom looked up like rabbits in high-beams as he walked in. Harry felt really guilty when he saw Dale's face; he looked sad and small where he sat next to Millicent. Harry kept his face serene. He really didn't have anything to say for himself.

"Harry, you shouldn't have flown off the handle at them like that! We're worried for you! I mean, _look_ at this!" Daphne held his dark-grey combat pants, clearly showing the large bloodstains on them. Naturally, Harry's anger boiled once more, and with an effort, he stifled it. His face was still calm.

"It's not mine."

"We _know_ it's not yours but _whose_ is it? Why do you have another man's blood on yourself!?"

"I have a job. I do it." This was as much as he was willing to say on the subject. This only served to worry his friends more; he saw, Millicent's face drained of colour.

"You have a _job?_ What kind of job, Harry? _Why _on earth would you want the kind of job that leaves another person's blood on your clothes?" Millicent looked sad and angry at him.

"Um, well, I can't tell you about it, any more than I have. And well... I've been doing my job for too many years to give it up. I'm only here as part of it." Millicent's face was like a porcelain dolls. Her pretty blue eyes had widened, her mouth formed a shocked "O" and there was a flush on her cheeks, from anger or shock he wasn't sure.

"_You're here because of your job?_" Blaise spoke for the first time, Harry hadn't noticed but he'd stood up and was now walking toward him, anger in his voice and his eyes.

"What are you here to do, _Potter_?" He said this viciously. Harry blinked in surprise. Why had they reacted so strongly to that? He was only here to gain experience, it's not like he was going to ki... oh.

"You thought I meant I was here to _kill_ someone!? No! How could you all think that?" Blaise stopped his slow walk toward him and cocked his head, willing him to explain and not excusing their thoughts.

"I'm here to _learn_. To gain _experience_. To make _friends._ Friends who won't act as if I'm some kind of monster! What I do is my own business, and only people I trust are given more information. I've known you all about a week! And you obviously hadn't realised I _don't_ like speaking to people about my past, what I do in my spare time, or any thing mildly personal! I've tried to be a good friend to you. I created a nice room and I warded it so no-one can get in and I've defended you in the corridors when I heard some of that Malfoy git's friends mocking you! I apologise for getting so angry last night but you have as much reason to apologise as I! I'd just gotten back from a mission and you jump on me right after it." He was breathing heavily by now, and his voice had risen, and all four looked at him with looks of shock and a bit of guilt.

Dale stood up and walked over to him, looking apprehensive and afraid. As he reached him he stuck out his hand. "Sorry mate, I- I didn't want to upset you, but you gotta at least understand our side of it, don't you?" Harry took his hand and nodded, keen to get this conversation out of the way. He really liked these people and wished they could be his friends. It would be better if they didn't find out the full truth.

After this exchange, they all moved back to the fire and hesitantly, slowly, a conversation about Quidditch was started, and soon they were laughing again and all was, not forgotten, but forgiven.

-------------

Harry glanced up from the potion he was currently brewing with Dale. Draco Malfoy, the boy who by all reports was a sorry excuse for a Slytherin, was currently tormenting the boy from the train, Neville Longbottom. It was a well-known fact to all Slytherins that Neville was absolutely hopeless at Potions, but Harry believed it was just the constant terror that the Slytherins and their Head of House had him under that made him hopeless.

Harry was thoroughly sick of Malfoy. He was just a punk little brat, with Daddy's money and reputation to hide behind. He threatened people's families when they ever got close enough to exposing him as the child that he was. In the two weeks that Harry had been at Hogwarts, he'd so far escaped Malfoy's esteemed attention, but he knew his friends were not having the same luck.

Finally, Neville's cauldron started to hiss and melt because of his inattention to it, and Harry slammed down his silver stirring rod, causing the people around him to look back at him, startled. Currently, Professor Snape was out of the classroom, having been called to deal with a problem in Flitwick's first-year Charms Class.

"Malfoy, what the hell is your problem?" Now the whole class had turned to him, and noted the anger in his voice. The Gryffindors looked startled, probably never having noticed rifts in the Slytherin Sixth-years. The Slytherins, however, looked back in varying looks of shock and curiosity. Most had not met or spoken with Harry at all, giving him a wide birth.

The blonde youth turned slowly, forgetting Neville enough for him to escape further away from him.

"My _problem,_ Potter?"

"Yeah. You're just a brat." Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but this was his only sign of anger.

"A brat, Potter? No, you mistake me. I'm the heir to the Malfoy fortune, and I act accordingly. I apologise for not acting more like a half-blood orphan." Shocked gasps could be heard, one voice that Harry recognised as Daphne's said "that's unfair!"

Harry clenched his hands.

"No Malfoy, you act like a brat, a common bully with some thug sidekicks and you hide behind your precious pureblood beliefs to hide the scared boy you are."

Malfoy took a step forward. He was taller and had the muscles of a Quidditch player, and had probably been in his share of fights. He looked at Harry thinking him easy game. He looked scrawny. He knew spells, Malfoy knew this, but as to his physical condition? Not many knew about the muscles beneath his robes, or the scars on his chest. A number of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls could probably attest to his muscles, having seen him coming through the Entrance Hall in his running shorts on more than one occasion, but it would be terribly unlikely for Malfoy to have heard this from them.

"Why don't you come closer and say that, _Potter?"_ Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you want me to do that?" The room held its collective breath, waiting to see the outcome of the little contest of wills. Malfoy had just opened his mouth to reply, when Snape came striding in, not looking at any of the students. Snape reached the front of the room and spun, and noted with some surprise nobody was watching their boiling, sparking and melting cauldrons.

"What is the meaning of this?" He snapped, glaring at the obvious distracters, Malfoy and Harry.

"Nothing Professor." Malfoy sat and Harry followed suit, all students letting out their breaths and suddenly realising what a sorry state their Potions had gotten into. But Malfoy had turned and glared at him, mouthing '_this isn't over._'

-------------

The tension between the two brewed the whole of the third week of term, with small verbal bashings being directed at him and his four friends. Harry remained steadfastly silent during these times, only raising an eyebrow and walking on, refusing to be led into the fight.

Finally the weekend set in, and Harry knew Malfoy would want to settle the tension over the next two days. Harry was prepared, however, he knew he could fend for himself, but he didn't know if he could protect his friends. On missions, he only had himself to protect, and on the few missions where he'd been required to guard someone, it had been relatively easy and he'd know where and when an attack would come.

So it was that whilst the five of them were outside flying, Harry had his wand in his pocket and he wearily scanned the grounds at intervals. Finally he saw the Doors open and a crowd of Slytherins came out, whilst people all over the Grounds stopped and watched, having heard about the incident already. Harry signalled to his friends and they nodded, each dismounting at the same time.

"Potter! Let's settle this. No wands. No one interferes." Harry smirked and took his wand from his pocket, handing it to Blaise, whilst Malfoy did the same, handing it to one of his goons, Crabbe or Goyle.

"Don't want to get beat Malfoy?"

"Of course not, and I won't be. I've trained with instructors from all over the world for years Potter, you are going to lose." His four companions contained their grins. Finally, Malfoy would be put in his place.

"So, do you agree to this now, no backing out, no changes of mind? How are we to end this? First blood? Until we tire? Death?" Malfoy slightly paled (more so than usual).

"Of course we are doing this. And the terms are until the other is unable to fight, whatever that entails." Harry frowned. Perhaps, if he was boasting like this, he did have some skill. This might be interesting. Silently, Harry threw off his black jacket, revealing his usual running singlet, which revealed muscles, his scars and the tattoo. The surrounding people (more people from other houses had been added to the crowd) gasped or started whispering, and Malfoy had visibly gulped.

"You asked for this Malfoy. Now, who here will be the judge? _Not_ a Slytherin," Harry said, eyeing all the Malfoy-supporters who had instantly put up their hand, "we'll need someone to pull me –err, either one of us of each other if we get carried away." Harry smirked at his purposeful slip-of-the-tongue, having seen Malfoy sweat just a little.

"We'll do it." Two very similar voices came from the crowd, and the owners pushed their way through all the people concealing them.

"Name's Fred-"

"-and George Weasley. We'll give you a judge-"

"-and a commentator!" Many people laughed but Malfoy looked murderous, as Harry smiled and agreed. It'd make it a bit more interesting. To his surprise, one of the tall twins pulled out an acid-green Quick Quotes quill and a long roll of parchment, already taking down the last conversation.

There was silence for some time, as Malfoy stretched and Harry stood still, thinking about what he should do. He could end it quickly with one hit, but where would be the fun in that? Small wounds and humiliation was what he'd use, getting Malfoy back for all the abuse he'd doled out in previous years to his friends.

"Begin." George said, and Fred immediately began his commentary.

"And Mr. Potter looks loose and ready, and I notice he has many serious-looking scars upon his person, George."

"Yes, serious indeed, and look at that Tattoo! MOONY-PADFOOT-PRONGS. Wonder who, or what they are! Anyway, it seems neither wants to make the first move, does it Fred?"

And so the banter began, a constant stream of compliments and commentary, obviously aimed at making Harry look better.

Harry and Malfoy circled each other, Malfoy letting out a stream of insults that had many people screaming abuse from the circle. Harry was silent, knowing that it was a waste of breath to try and bait him. His time would come and Harry didn't particularly want to speed up the process.

Finally loosing his cool, Malfoy charged, but instead of using a brawler-style technique like Harry had expected, he slid alongside him a used his leg to sweep his feet from underneath him. Harry smiled widely as he slowly fell, and used his arms to propel himself away, doing a handstand and flipping out of it.

"Ah Malfoy, better than I expected." Without warning, Harry sprinted forward with lightening speed, and started punching and kicking in quick succession, giving him no time to retaliate as he could barely manage to block him.

Between attacks, Harry breathed out, loud enough for Fred to repeat, "Would you like me to pick it up a notch?" Malfoy started and nearly didn't block his punch, but it was too late anyway. He'd had enough playing. He jumped in the air, startling Malfoy into stepping back. He flipped over him, landing at his back, and with a flat palm, used all his force into hitting his unprotected back, sending him five meters to land flat on his face.

Slowly, he got up and turned, glaring bloody murder at him. But before he could act upon anything, Harry was back, hitting his stomach repeated times and again the Malfoy heir fell to the ground in a cloud of dust. Malfoy rolled onto his stomach, arms braced on the floor, ass pointing Harry's way. Harry laughed and walked forward silently, and pushed him, his face landing in the dirt.

"Malfoy. All your life you've been spoiled, your every whim catered to. You're a bully, a fraud and a complete waste of space, and you've attacked, terrified and mocked almost every person you've met, most of which have more worth in their _pinkie fingers_ than you have in your whole body. You've taken it upon yourself to be the King of the Slytherins, giving the rest of the house a bad name, teaching the younger generations to be just like you, or otherwise making the lives of those who don't utter hell. Roll over and look at me when I say this Malfoy!" Malfoy squeaked and rolled over, looking up at him. His eyes were slightly red, and Harry almost laughed.

"You are pathetic, and I want you to apologise to everyone. But even more than that, I want you to apologise to Daphne, Dale, Blaise, Millicent and Neville Longbottom." Murmurs arose from the crowd and his four friends started, not having realised that Harry would bring them into this. Neville, meanwhile, was being pushed to the fore of the crowd, looking terrified and awed at the same time.

Malfoy stood and glared angrily at the crowd.

"I will not. _You_ are the waste of space Potter. You, who are famous for nothing you even remember doing. You who grew up anonymously. And don't think I don't know _what_ you did with all your years Potter. I _know _you. I know the real _you._Would you like me to tell your new precious friends? Would you like me to reveal to all who stand here your, uh, _extra-__curricular_ activities?!" Harry went white. Nobody was to know that information. His mind skipped back to a conversation he'd had at age five.

_"Harry! Now listen. All that __I've__ taught you so far, and all that I will teach you, is top secret. Nobody can know. This isn't a rule to be broken. You will be killed or hunted, and I will throw you from my house. Secrecy is __vital__. Without it, you will never be a successful agent. You will be a nobody. A __nothing. Useless. Less than useless, a wanted man. I, like my master before me, must warn you. __I will give the Ministry all my records of you and wash my hands of you. Do you understand? I cannot let you be known, or you will not be known to me. Understand me Harry?"_

_"Y-yes Madam Weir!"_

Harry's face clouded and Malfoy seemed to see something in his face he did not like. Harry, when angry, could easily use wandless magic. Non verbal also, but he yelled the next words.

"_Qui__etis impenetrabiilis prohibeo p__arietis__!" _ Creating a solid dome of wind, and to all outside the dome nothing could be seen or heard.

Malfoy screamed.

"Quiet! Now, first, answer me, how did you find out?" Harry's tone was dangerous, dripping with venom.

"I-I wrote my father and his c-clients had contact w-with y-you, you d-did a job two w-weeks ago for them!" Malfoy was bawling his eyes out. Harry's anger rose. All clients signed confidentiality agreements and swore they would not speak of the agreement. It would cost them millions of dollars if Weir Relations found out, and a huge clean-up mission for Harry. He sighed angrily.

"Malfoy, I cannot let you go with this information." He whimpered and slumped to a heap at his feet, begging him.

"No, I will not kill you. I am going to erase your memory." He looked up, his tears forgotten.

"T-that's a great idea Potter! Perfect! Just don't kill me! B-but, won't I just ask my father again?"

"I will be taking care of that too. Have you told _anyone_?" Malfoy shook his head vigorously but Harry was not sure.

"I am going to look to see if you have, and I will be _very_ angry if you have lied to me." Malfoy shuddered but still shook his head, eyes looking straight at Harry's. Taking his chance, Harry entered his mind with Legilimency, and saw that he'd been telling the truth.

"Draco, you will remember parts of this conversation, but not anything more than my threatening." Harry wandlessly cast a Memory Charm, erasing all evidence of Harry's job.

Malfoy looked at him, eyes glazed.

"We have just been having a _serious_ conversation, and you are terrified. You will _never_ look into my past, or harm my friends again. Understand?" Dumbly, Malfoy nodded, and, satisfied, Harry released the spell concealing them. Immediately, he heard cheers and shouts and Harry smiled. Harry stood proudly over a slumped and tear-stained Draco Malfoy. His humiliation was complete.

He'd have to deal with Lucius Malfoy and his other clients that night.

-------------

Harry's triumph over Malfoy had spread around the whole school, and he was soon everyone's hero, giggling girls passed him and he had all sorts of "offers", Guys clapped him on the back, congratulated him, nodded or looked at him jealously.

He'd gained a sort of fan group, lead by a couple of Gryffindors and many Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, not all of them girls. Harry really didn't want the extra attention.

Harry had sorted out the security breach all on his own, not notifying Madam Weir. He erased the memories of Lucius Malfoy and the three gentlemen he'd "sent a message" for the other week. He'd also collected thousands of galleons from the men; they'd probably file a theft report to the Ministry, Dably's trademark fingerprints and magic signature all over the crime scene. He was now a considerably rich sixteen-year-old.

Harry's friends were eternally grateful for him putting Malfoy in his place. Malfoy, however, was furious, he was the laughing-stock of the whole school, humiliated, and he'd lost a lot of the respect he'd gained over the years. He did, however, have a close-knit gaggle of cronies and hangers-on, who tried to console the defeated king of the Slytherins.

The next few months passed in a daze for Harry, he knew most of the criteria in class already and enjoyed the times he was randomly pulled into broom closets by unseen and unknown girls, Harry could never see them and they never spoke to him afterwards, he was probably just a bragging chip for them. Of course, it was all just snogging, but Harry enjoyed it immensely. In no time at all, it was Christmas Break.

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_Author's Note: I had planned so much more for this chapter, but I just couldn't fit anything else in without writing twenty more pages! Well, I've got a good start for a fifth chapter now!_

_Reviews, as always, are appreciated! Let me know if you want to see anything in this fic, and I'll try to fit it into my storyline. I've come up with a few interesting ideas as to where this is going!_

_Thanks for reading,_

_**Fool**_


	5. Pensieve Thoughts

_AN:_ _Just wanted to address Traveller's review, yeah, it's a bit illogical, but Draco Malfoy isn't the smartest of creatures in my fic, is he:D_

_Thanks for all those who are continuing to read my story, and I'm sorry for the wait!_

**Pensieve Thoughts**

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Having found out that Harry had not had a proper Christmas in his life that he could remember, all four of his friends stayed for the Christmas break. All other Slytherins had left, so they had the whole of Slytherin House to themselves, they delighted in placing prank potions from Harry's kit all over the room, coating objects with them. All one would have to do was touch it, and the residue would stay until washed off, best case scenario ingested. In the days before Christmas, the Sixth Years engaged in snow ball fights with the Gryffindors (the whole of the Weasley family had stayed, as well as Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. Luna Lovegood had also stayed, the only Ravenclaw to do so.)

The snowball fights lasted for most of the day, and there were no house rivalries, which eventually began irritating Harry. The Gryffindors seemed perfectly happy to hang around them. It was actually unnerving; Harry was so used to snide comments and distance that the other students usually treated him to. Finally, after a furious battle, all of them laughing and talking after Slytherin had won, Harry finally asked one of the twins, Fred, why they were being so civil. He looked at him in some confusion before replying.

"Well, you're all as good as Gryffindors anyway." Harry stared for a while before catching sight of Ron and Hermione behind the twin's head. Ron was chasing Hermione with a snowball, and Hermione was running towards the lake, putting a levitation charm on her feet to make her "run on water". Ron obviously wasn't paying attention, as he ran, head-first, into the freezing Lake. Seeing this, Harry didn't know whether being "as good as a Gryffindor" was a compliment or not.

-------------

Harry had decided that for once in his life, he'd try to sleep in. Last night, Christmas Eve, the five of the Slytherins had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, drinking a few smuggled bottles of Firewhiskey and Vodka. Harry had been completely surprised by this, in all his time at Weir Relations; he'd only drunk half a glass at a time at most, if only to not look suspicious. It was an eye-opening experience for all involved.

"Where's Harry?" he heard a faint whispering outside his closed curtains.

"I dunno, he's usually the first up. Do you think he went for a run?"

"On _Christmas?_ Surely not!" He heard footsteps moving closer to his bed.

"What are you doing? He won't be in bed." The curtains opened and light flooded in, and Harry opened his eyes to be met with Daphne's face. It was quite a sight to wake up to.

"Harry! You're in bed! At seven in the morning!" She genuinely seemed shocked.

"I had a big night." He grinned, and Daphne looked at him in confusion.

"Harry, do you have a silencing charm on?"

_Oh yeah, forgot about that._ Harry got out of bed and stepped out, yawning and cursing the suddenly wobbly and sick feeling he got.

After seeing Daphne's frown, he just smiled, knowing he'd probably be asked about the Charm later. He shrugged, not really caring.

"Okay! Presents Harry!" the other three were smiling, Millicent was practically bouncing. All were wearing their pyjamas, as was obviously a tradition, so Harry didn't bother getting dressed, though it felt a little strange to be walking around in cotton boxer shorts and a light singlet.

They dragged him down the thin, barely lit stairs and into the Common Room, and surprisingly the Christmas tree had a mountain of presents underneath it.

"Wow! You guys got a few presents huh?"

"Lots of them are for you, silly!" Millicent grinned, rushing over and picking up a small, thin package and handing it to him.

"This is for you, from me." As was her trademark when dealing with him, she blushed slightly. He accepted the gift with thanks and unwrapped it, finding a wand holster made of dragons hide. Harry already had a holster, but after years of use, it was beginning to wear.

"Thanks Millicent! This is great!" He beamed and Millicent mumbled "My pleasure..."

The rest of the group had begun getting into the presents, and Harry realised the largest pile was actually his. "Who on earth..." He methodically made his way through his presents, and frowned at the many letters he's received. Fan-mail, of a sort, Christmas cards full of well-wishers and fanatics, congratulating him on his return to the Wizarding world.

Along with these letters, he received books from Blaise on both obscure defence spells and a book entitled "Useless spells and jinxes, for the child in all of us." Harry chuckled at the first spell, which claimed to give cheese more holes. Useless.

Dale had given him a book, Quidditch through the Ages, and smiled. Harry loved Quidditch, but didn't often talk about it. He wondered briefly how Dale had known.

Daphne had given him a picture frame. Inside was a photograph that he recognised, taken three weeks ago. As they were waiting to go into Charms, a small blonde-headed boy had come up to them, and quite shakily asked to take their photo. In the photo, Harry was grinning broadly, Blaise and Dale had their arms slung around him whilst the girls stood in front of the taller boys, grinning and turning around and laughing with them.

Harry stood, smiling widely and had hugged Daphne, the first real physical show of affection he'd shown Daphne.

"Thank you." He'd said, with feeling. She was smiling and blushing, and the other three had smiled as well, knowing Harry had never really had real friends.

"Ok. Well I have to give you all your presents. Uh, hang on, I'll go get it." Harry ran up the stairs and retrieved the heavy object with a swish and a flick of his wand, guiding it down the stairs.

It was a pensieve, an unbreakable, clear glass sort, one designed to not remove the memory from the author but to replicate it. It was one of the finest quality pensieves on the market.

The four gazed at the item, all of them knowing what it was. Their faces were full of curiosity, and Blaise was watching him closely.

"Uh, I bought a Pensieve for us all to share. I think it'd be nice for all of us to get to know each other better through this, actually experiencing memories with each other. I've already put some memories in, as my gift, because you all don't know anything about my past and I don't really like to _talk_ about it, but I want you all to know some of the details." Harry let a small smile come to his lips as both girls leapt and hugged him, smiling broadly.

"That's an excellent gift Harry! Man, now I feel bad for getting you a book about Quidditch!" Harry smiled.

"No, I actually love Quidditch! How did you know?" Dale just smiled, like he had some secret, when really he'd just watched Harry at the first Quidditch match of the season, and had seen the excitement in his new friend's eyes.

"Well, enough chit chat! Let's look at these memories!" Millicent was practically falling over herself to get to the pensieve, and Harry decided he'd given a good gift. They didn't know him, and perhaps looking at these memories they might be happy with a little information.

-------------

Each of them fell into Harry's first memory. It was a dark house, with old paintings and a slightly menacing atmosphere. They looked at him in some confusion before a tall man walked into the room, grinning like a fool. It was like a light had been switched on, or a fire lit, the man had such a happy demeanour and a face already showing laugh-lines, though he looked no older than thirty.

"Harry! Harry! Where are you, you little mongrel?" he man had a deep voice and he was laughing, running about the room and checking behind draperies and couches. He finally went to the last place he hadn't looked, calling out to Harry as he searched. As he opened the wardrobe door, a small toddler jumped out at him, and the shaggy black-haired man lifted the boy up, laughing.

"There you are Sparkie! You hid well that time!" A miniature, three-year-old Harry Potter grinned and giggled as the man tickled his stomach, the child nearly falling from the man's grip in an attempt to escape.

"Ha! You'll never escape m-" his sentence was cut off by the doorbell, and the man ruffled the boy's hair once, leaving him in a large green armchair.

"Stay there Sparkie, I'll be back!" His footsteps receded and they watched Harry for a bit, the memory not letting them leave the room. The rased voices could be heard, and startlingly, they could all recognise the soft, calm tone of Albus Dumbledore.

"We have to Sirius, it's for the best."

"For the best! No! You can't! I won't let you old man! I _will_ fight you on this! Now get out of my house!"

"Impossible my boy, we must take him now, you must understand it's for his own benefit. Aurors, restrain him if necessary."

Again, footsteps could be heard, but these were slow and light, and then the door opened to reveal a younger-looking Albus Dumbledore, wearing a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Hello Harry! My name is Albus Dumbledore; I've come to fetch you! Your Aunt wishes you to stay with her for a time, I'm sure you want to meet her?" The little Harry glared at the man, crossing his arms.

"No... unless I can take Uncle with me." The elder Harry watched this with a blank face. This was one of his earliest memories. He hated it.

"Yes of course! Sirius will be coming along after. First we get to go a special way. It's better than Floo travel and Portkey, do you want to try?" The young, trusting Harry grinned and nodded, jumping up from the seat and running over to Dumbledore. Just as he touched the wizard, the door burst open and the man, now identified as Sirius, ran in, yelling something incomprehensible.

"Sorry Sirius." And with that, Dumbledore Apparated, taking the young and bewildered Harry with him. The room and memory vanished.

All of them were looking at Harry with varying degrees of shock. Harry grimaced and the pensieve took them to the next memory.

They walked down a dark, warm street lined with perfect little houses and perfect gardens, perfectly mowed lawns and clean sidewalks and perfectly spaced lamplights led them on their way.

"Where is this place?" Millicent asked, knowing it would be a Muggle street with perfectly Muggle occupants.

"Privet Drive. Here, this is the one."

Number Four was identical to all the other homes, but shouting pierced the quietude of this small home.

The door opened to reveal a perfect and clean hallway, lit and full of pictures of a small, round boy, an old, round man and a tall thin woman, all smiling.

"Petunia! Stop trying to _protect_ the boy! He's one of_ them_. Stupid, dangerous and weak! I'm sick of keeping him, feeding him, helping him. He's petulant and strange!"

"Vernon, I can't take this anymore! You beat me, you beat the boy, and you spoil Dudders so much that he's unhealthy! You've even taught him to beat on Harry! The boy is our responsibility and my sister's son!"

"Your _sister_ who is dead and rotting, leaving you with the child! He doesn't do his chores right! Did you see the back garden today, hm? Looked a mess!"

"I don't care! Please Vernon, let him out." The woman's voice was pleading, and they finally came into view of the two adults that were in the photo frames, though now the woman is on the ground beside the stairs, sporting a bruise high on her cheek and in tears. The man looks forbidding, standing over the woman with a set of keys in his hand.

"No Petunia. If you weren't so weak and useless, you'd get them yourself." The man began to walk away and, quick as a flash, the woman stood, picked up a heavy decorative ceramic plate and hit the man over the head, followed by the twin of the already shattered plate.

The heavy man fell, hard and the keys slipped from his fingers. He groaned but them was still, passed out. Dale was looking at the scene wide eyed, and Blaise had pumped his arm in the air and yelled "Yes!" whilst the girls were grinning at the woman's achievements.

Harry however was silent. He'd never seen the actual fight, but he had retrieved part of this memory from someone who had. Petunia stepped over her husband, crying softly, and picked up the keys, walking toward the stairs once more. She inserted the key into a door under the stairs and Daphne craned her neck over the woman, trying to see what was inside.

"Come on Harry, we'll get you fixed up and we'll go for a late ice-cream. How does that sound?" A battered and bloody four-year-old Harry Potter limped from the room and took Petunia's hand.

"Yes Auntie." Harry's voice was raspy and small. Older Harry looked over to see his friend's reactions. Daphne was white with rage and Millicent had unshed tears in her eyes. Dale and Blaise seemed fine, but both had their hands clenched in fists.

Petunia ran upstairs quickly and came back down with a large, packed suitcase. It seems she'd been planning on leaving for some time.

As the memory people started toward the door, the memory ended, and was followed immediately after with the scene from the Ice-cream shop. They were the only customers, and Harry had before him a large sundae, though he seemed to have eaten only a few small bites. He was no longer bleeding but was heavily bandages and he sported many band-aids.

"Harry, we aren't going home anymore. Your Uncle is a horrible, horrible man. We'll go away together, how does that sound?" Harry nodded slowly, but his eyes held a certain suspiciousness. After ten more minutes, Harry still hadn't finished the ice-cream, or even eaten any more, and petunia took the boy's hand and led him out of the shop.

A small cough, and the group of watching students turned, finding Albus Dumbledore smiling benignly. Petunia frowned.

"What are you doing here Albus?"

"Why, I've come to take Harry. Obviously this arrangement hasn't worked out, and I've found a replacement residence for him. You don't have to worry about it Petunia." He was still smiling.

"No. I'm keeping Harry. I have to make sure he'll be ok, and I want to go with him."

"Unfortunately, this is quite impossible; you would not be able to go where we will be going. I-" Dumbledore stopped talking and the students turned, wondering why (all except Harry) and saw that Petunia had started running, little Harry in his Aunt's arms. The memory ended and there was a short interval where they floated in a white misty space.

"I can't believe that! Your Uncle! And Dumbledore! He's a bastard!" Dale looked fit to punch something, as did the usually-reserved Millicent.

"When I see him next he's going to regret it!"

The next memory started playing, and they found themselves in a large play-area, with children of all ages running around and laughing. They spotted Harry immediately. He looked about five now, but the bruises had disappeared and the air was warm still, Harry knew that this was sometime during summer, almost a year had passed and it was soon Harry's fifth birthday.

"You can go meet some children, Mrs Weir, I'm sure you'll find a child you'll fall in love with!" A matronly-looking woman was walking beside a short, stern woman, who was obviously Mrs. Weir.

"I will. Actually, I see a boy I quite like already."

"Oh! Really? Which is the lucky little chap?"

"Him, the one with the dark hair and glasses." The other woman looked at Mrs. Weir is shock.

"_Harry?_ Are you sure? The boy has been here almost a year now, and he's quite the anti-social child, but very well-mannered, to be sure. Quiet though."

"Yes, he's the one. I'll go speak with him."

The group moved closer to Harry whilst the other woman moved away.

"Hello Harry. I've come to take you with me."

"No. I don't like you."

"No, I probably don't like you either, but I know what you can do." The boy's eyes widened and he looked guilty.

"Yes. But it's a good thing. It's normal. Would you like to know more?"

"M-more? More..." The boy looked to either side, seeing if anybody was listening, before moving closer to Mrs. Weir, "_Magic?"_ He whispered, looking hopeful but afraid.

"Yes more, but much, much more than that. Come." Mrs. Weir took Harry's hand and led him away. The memory faded and Harry led them out of the pensieve.

-------------

They sat for some time in silence, each looking off into the distance whilst Harry nervously plucked at his top. There was an uncomfortable feeling about the room, before Daphne broke the quiet.

"Harry! That was terrible! Dumbledore! And your Uncle! And was that an orphanage? How'd you get there?" Harry took a deep breath when he saw all four of them looking expectantly at him.

"We ran away and we were fine for a few days, before my Aunt realised she was being followed everywhere. We had many more meetings with the Professor, before Aunt Petunia finally took me to the Orphanage and said she would come back, but she didn't and I was there for a while, until Madam Weir came and took me away."

All looked grim and Harry sighed, he'd known his memories would be a bit depressing.

"Anyway, now you know a bit of my childhood." Thinking of those memories his thoughts strayed to the most recent letter from Sirius. It had been short and just told him what he was doing for the holiday season (nothing but work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement). Harry had sent a letter back with his plans for presents for his friends and just some general questions about his life. Slowly, they were beginning to know one another again.

"Well. Um, does anybody want to see the time I levitated out of the window in a bit of accidental magic? My mum nearly had kittens!" Blaise was laughing and Harry laughed with him, showing him how to extract the memories.

-------------

Christmas Dinner in the Great Hall was a subdued and tension-filled affair. They were all sat at one table, and as soon as the five Slytherins entered the room, Albus knew something had changed.

Harry was open and talked naturally with the small boy, Dale. But the other's all had their eyes glued to the Headmaster, and he was shocked to find anger. And hatred. What had he done to make the students so upset?

The rest of the Staff and Students all noticed the looks the Slytherins were giving their Headmaster and Minerva nudged him with her fork.

"What have you done _now_ Albus?"

"I honestly don't know." And he didn't. Perhaps he'd have to start tutoring the boy. The rumours of Voldemort taking over parts of Ireland were unnerving, and he'd definitely need to get Harry on his side by that time. After all, he was supposed to defeat the Dark Lord.

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_AN: Oh that was fairly long. I hadn't meant the memories to last a whole chapter but there you go! The next chapter should have a bit more action in it, and a bit more Malfoy bashing (I do love Draco but in this fic, he's annoying and boarish.)! How lovely!_

_Reviews are, as usual, very appreciated!_

_**Fool**_


	6. Visions and Prophecies

**Visions and Prophecies**

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The hallway was shadowed, the windows shuttered, though it was easy to tell it was daylight outside, as warmth permeated the hall and made it humid, stuffy. The door was ajar slightly and inside voices were heard, piquing his curiosity.

"When my Lord?" A high-pitched, reverent female voice said, close to the door.

"Soon, my faithful one, soon. First, I need a sacrifice. Fetch me a boy from the village, preferably with green eyes." Every 's' was lengthened, hissed, the voice was hollow. He shuddered, knowing who that would belong to.

"Yes, my Lord, I will be back within moments." The distinct 'Pop!' of Apparation followed and then silence reigned for a time, before, without warning, the door swung opened to reveal Harry, standing close to the threshold, no longer hidden by shadows.

"Ah, I see you have finally come and joined me. We will be seeing each other again, very soon. But first, we shall have a little play, yess?" Harry saw a tall man's back, but the head held not one face, but two, red eyes protruding from the bald man's skull.

"_Crucio__!"_

-------------

Harry woke suddenly, sweating, heart beating fast, hand clapping to his scar. When he moved his hand, he realised it was slick with blood. Cursing, he clambered out of bed and went to the bathroom, all the while his brain moving at a record pace.

_That was no dream. That was something that had happ__ened, or is happening, right now. _He was curious as to whose voice the woman's had been. Who would be helping Voldemort? Who had found the deranged man? And whose body was Voldemort currently occupying?

A knock came at the door and Harry finished washing his face, opening the door to find Daphne.

"Uh, Daphne, whatcha doing in our dorm on a Saturday morning?"

"Oh, I was down in the Common Room and Professor Snape walked in, and he said Dumbledore wants to see you." Her face had twisted into a frown and Harry nodded, thanking her and leaving straight away.

-------------

Harry was led by Professor Snape to the entrance of Dumbledore's office, a large stone Gargoyle. Harry was about to enter when the gargoyle jumped out of the way, when Snape stopped him.

"Potter, you are to come straight to me after this meeting is over. We must discuss some things before the rest of the school arrives tonight." He left in a swirl of cloth and Harry shook his head. The man really overdid his image a little.

He walked into Dumbledore's office and immediately took note of all the magical instruments in the room. A large phoenix sat perched on a bookcase just beside the door, and was trilling softly. The old man was sitting behind his desk, merrily sipping tea then smiling jovially.

"Ah, Harry my boy! I'm quite appalled it has taken me this long to have a chat with you, but as you know, things can get quite hectic in this old school!" He chuckled and gestured toward the seat opposite him. Harry remained standing.

"What was it you wished to discuss Professor?" Dumbledore momentarily frowned but it was gone in the blink of an eye.

"Well, Harry, I just wanted to offer you some unique opportunities. Voldemort is, of course, returning to his powers, and I believe it necessary to train you up a bit! I have heard you are quite proficient in a few areas, but I do know you can't best Voldemort in a duel yet!" This time it was Harry's turn to frown.

"And why, sir, would I be needing to learn how to best Voldemort? By myself? Surely, as Leader-of-all-that-is-Light you will eventually overcome the Dark lord, yes?"

"Ah yes, well, I have it on good authority that you will be targeted by the whole of the Dark legions, and I know that Voldemort himself wishes to-"

"On whose authority? What evidence is there of him wanting to hurt me, personally?"

"You defeated him as a child, Harry! Of course he wants you! And I cannot name my source just yet, you are not ready for-"

"With all due respect, sir, but I believe I have a right to any information on this subject." Harry was cool and collected, whilst Dumbledore looked a trifle nervous.

"Ah, but Harry, as your Headmaster I shall deem what is-"

"Sir, I don't really respect you as a person. I respect what you try to be, for the world, I respect your position, and I even respect what you have done in the past. But toward me, you have been nothing less that troublesome and detrimental to my well-being. I would appreciate honesty out of you, sir." Dumbledore had gradually gotten paler, and Harry could actually see anger.

"Well. If this is the case, than I see no harm in telling you all I know." It seemed he had caved to the pressure. Harry was sure he hadn't been set in his place for some time, and he knew pressuring him a little would get him answers.

"There was a prophecy, made about you, just after you defeated the Lord Voldemort.

_A Boy with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,_

_Born to those who have thrice defied __him,_

_Born as the seventh month dies,_

_The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,_

_And equal they will become._

_Mirrored, their lives,_

_But with the sixth year they part,_

_Only to mirror again,_

_Thrice more,_

_Light brightening Dark,_

_And Dark dampening Light,_

_Until the skies are neither shady, nor clear,_

_Then on the Fourth will either win,_

_As neither can live while the other survives.__"_

Dumbledore's voice lost it's mysterious quality and he smiled, as if this message was nothing but a small matter.

"Yes, Harry, you are the saviour we have looked for, the saviour who will help us. Tell me, what happened when you were six years of age?"

"Well, my, err, carer, moved me to another home." Dumbledore nodded, as if expecting this answer.

"Yes! And I suspect, that at the age of six, Tom Riddle, who would become Lord Voldemort, went on a holiday with his Orphanage and created something similar to a _home_ in a cave. I've been there and there is nothing much but a makeshift cubby house and such, but this _must_ be his 'other home'. Now, I believe the significance of the new home is of the utmost importance. When both of you received new homes, you both chose new paths to follow! You, as I have surmised, went down a different path to the dark and morbid path Mr. Riddle did!" He looked entirely pleased with himself, in fact, he was almost bouncing in his seat. It was a ridiculous thought. Harry had actually embarked on a dark and morbid path himself, receiving his first proper induction into the role of an Apprentice. He frowned at the meaning.

Harry was about to point this out, but a heavy weight on his shoulder caused him to pause. Looking up, he was surprised to find the phoenix on his shoulder, looking him right in the eye. He inexplicably got the feeling the bird wanted him to stop his conversation with the old man, and keep it to himself.

"Ah! And this is Fawkes, my phoenix! A bit temperamental actually, this year he hasn't been so kindly disposed toward me... I'm not sure what I did... but he seems to like you well enough!" He finished happily. Harry had the sudden impression of a three year old.

"Professor, I must meet with my Head of House now, thank you for the talk, I'm sure to give that prophecy a lot more thought." Harry frowned and started to leave, the phoenix flying over to Dumbledore and giving a sharp warble.

-------------

Professor Snape sat behind his ornate, black desk. Harry Potter sat in front of the ornate, black desk. A potion behind the Slytherin Head of House hissed at regular intervals, creating the sense of time ticking away. Harry finally broke the silence they had been sitting in for the past three minutes.

"You wished to speak with me, sir?" Snape seemed to grow stiffer, if possible and he sneered slightly.

"Yes Potter. I understand you rather publicly criticized Draco Malfoy, and indeed implied you are nothing like your fellow Slytherins. And I have watched you closely, Potter. You have been regularly speaking with the most foolish and insufferable bunch of students from other houses this break. But during the time I have watched you, I've come to one conclusion."

"Only one sir?" Snape's eyes narrowed and his face contorted into that of annoyance.

"Yes, brat, just one. You are the most under-handed and cunning of all my Slytherins." Now it was Harry's turn to narrow his eyes. He resolutely hid his confusion.

"Sorry sir?"

"You regularly leave your dorm at night. You have formed an unlikely group of friends, concealing your true self. You hide an incredible amount of power from all the professors, you have no small talent at the Physical Arts, and you seem clear-headed and not easily angered. Is my assumption correct in that you have had more than the regular home-schooling program?" He seemed almost... _nice._ Curious and nice. Harry hid his confused feelings again.

"No sir, just a regular tutor."

"Do not lie to me, boy." He felt a tendril of power trying to touch his mind and he expelled the Professor instantly and forcefully.

"That is no way to gain my trust, Professor."

"Potter, tell me, you have trained with a professional? At a House?" deliberately not picking up on the insinuation that he'd worked at Weir Relations, he replied, "Yes, at a house. I lived in a house whilst being tutored."

"Do not play me for a fool!"

"I would never dream of it Professor."

"Potter, I wish to help you. I have known about Albus's faults for many, many years, and I _know_ the Dark lord. I was once a Death Eater. I can help you in your pursuit of the Dark Lord, or I can help you escape this fate." Harry couldn't hide his confusion this time.

"Why? Why help me?"

"Call it taking a belated interest in my best students' welfare." He desperately needed more contacts within the school, and needed someone to bounce ideas about the prophecy on. Madam Weir could not be told of it. Chase couldn't be told. His schoolmates could not be told, for a while yet.

"Yes, I was trained at a House, in fact, I was an Agent." Snape's eyes widened at this. An Agent at sixteen? "I still go on missions. I think Dumbledore has the wrong idea about the prophecy. I've recently come to the conclusion that Agent work isn't... for me." The Professor nodded, as if understanding.

"Thank you, Harry," Harry noticed he'd switched to his first name, "for confiding in me. We have much to discuss, but I unfortunately have much to do in preparation for the return of the students tonight. I will summon you at some later date, perhaps on Tuesday?" Harry nodded and without much of a second glance, left, hoping beyond hope that he had made the right decision in confiding even that much in the Professor. Harry had, after all, just broken one of the most vital rules of Weir Relations. And the funny thing was, he didn't care as much as he thought he should.

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_AN: Short update, I know, but I felt I had to leave it there before going into some boring filler__. Please review, I was really ha__ppy with most of the reviews I recently have gotten. (Yes anonymous, I am ignoring __you,__ just don't bother reviewing again thanks.)_

_I apologize for being away for a few days and only giving you a taster, but hey, it's something right? _

_Prophecies are annoyingly hard to change to fit my story!_

_Thank you for reading,_

**Fool**


	7. Revivals, Reactions and Reappearances

**Revivals, ****Reactions**** and Reappearances **

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_"Bone of the Father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" A cloaked, female figure yelled, dropping mouldering bones into a cauldron large enough to fit two grown men._

_"Flesh of the servant, willingly__given, you will revive your master!" The woman took a great knife to her wrist, and before Harry could prepare himself, her hand fell into the cauldron, blood spurting sickeningly into the cauldron, which she stopped with a Cauterizing Charm. Seemingly unfazed, she stepped away from the cauldron and Harry looked to where she was heading, and groaned. A young boy, of about five years of age, with black hair and dull green eyes was wailing and wriggling, trying to free himself from the ropes that t__i__ed him to a large tombstone._

_The cloaked figure withdrew the large knife again, and slashed the young boy's left arm, catching the blood with the knife and hurriedly moving to drop it in the cauldron._

_"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!"__ Suddenly, the bubbling in the cauldron grew alarmingly, and Harry dreaded what would happen next._

_It was, however a short wait. The sparks that had been flying from the potion stopped and a surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead. Harry lost sight of the servant and the cauldron, and felt a sharp pain in his scar, but instead of waking, forced himself to stay in the dream, the vision, whatever it was._

_Then, the steam started to dissipate and a skeletal form rose from the now-quiet cauldron. Red eyes, snake-like features and pure white skin, Harry, even in his pain, knew who this must surely be. Voldemort had returned._

_But still, he did not wake up. The servant draped a long black cloak about her master and he said "__Nagini__, come to me." Harry looked to where Voldemort was staring expectantly, and sure enough, a huge snake slithered toward its' master. __"Master!__ You have a new body. May I eat the victim now? Its blood is so __tainted,__ I must cleanse it for you..." Harry started when he realised he was hearing the snake speak. And then he almost gagged, registering what the animal had said._

_"Of __coursse__ my precious.__ Attack him with __haste,__ he is no more than a filthy Muggle.__ I will then give you the Boy.__" Harry cried out, he ran toward the boy, but his fingers slipped through the boy. He wasn't really there. Then the snake burst through Harry's ghostly form with __it's__ fangs parted, reaching the boy __it bit, it's mouth reaching wide over the boy's head..._

-------------

"Harry! Wake up! Harry!" Harry was screaming, his head in immense pain, as he struggled from his sheets. He heard yelling all around him and he stopped screaming, his throat sore.

"Harry! What's wrong?" He realised the wards on his bed were down and he was on the floor.

"He's... I – I have to go see Dumbledore!" he swore and shot up, running from the room without even acknowledging his friends.

-------------

Contrary to what he had told his friends, he found himself outside Snape's quarters, banging on the door.

There was no answer for quite some time, before the door finally opened.

"What the hell is all this racket!" Snape looked down and saw Harry and without any more questions, he let him inside.

Harry found himself in a dark and warm lounge room, filled with (unsurprisingly) green and black furnishings. Snape gestured for him to sit on the lounge and Harry complied willingly, tapping his foot nervously as Snape strode around the room collecting god-knows-what. Finally, he came over with a potion in hand and a wet towel, which he wiped gently across Harry's scar.

"Err, Professor?"

"You have blood all over your face. Now, take this Calming Drought, it'll help." Harry reluctantly did what he was told. Snape seemed so... fatherly. It was actually causing him to freak out a little.

"Okay, so, the Dark Lord is back. You saw it, right?" Harry's mouth opened in utter surprise, to be quickly shut again.

"How do you know?" For an answer, Snape rolled up the left sleeve of his black dressing gown and showed him a black, inflamed tattoo, the Dark Mark, which Harry knew well having encountered it many times before.

"You're a Death Eater?"

"_Was_ a Death Eater. When the last war ended, I had been a spy for quite some time. I will have to go back to the Dark Lord very soon to keep up my position, and I will be punished." Harry nodded, letting the information sink in.

"How did he come back?" His voice was soft.

"He used some potion, with bone from his father and a hand from a woman servant and the-" his voice closed and he stopped before composing himself. "And the blood from a boy who looked like me." Snape nodded.

"And then he came back, and I understood what his pet snake was saying, and then the snake a-attacked the boy. He devoured him." Harry's face remained closed but he was tense, despite the Calming Drought.

"You understood what the snake said? As far as I know, tat shouldn't happen, unless you were a parselmouth... I'm glad you came to me Harry, now I must go to Professor Dumbledore, then on to the Dark Lord, take this vial, it is a Dreamless Sleep potion. I'll come to see you soon." Harry took it thankfully.

"Thank you, Professor."

"Call me Severus." They shared a small smile before each parted ways at the door.

-------------

"Harry, what happened?"

All of his friends were in their Dorm now, looking worriedly at him. In a falsely calm voice, he replied,

"Lord Voldemort has returned. He killed a little boy." Whilst they gasped in shock, Millicent even half-feinting, Harry went to his bed, downed his potion, and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

-------------

It was the morning after his vision and Harry woke to raised voices. He frowned, and realised Dale was yelling at Blaise, which never happened, they were almost like brothers.

"He _has _to be joking!"

"Did you see him? Did you _hear_ him last night! And all that blood!"

"He must've... it was just a bad dream!"

"It wasn't a bad dream Blaise." Harry sat up, a dull headache beating in his head, as he looked blearily around the room. Blaise and Dale stood near the door, five meters apart and looking both tired and furious, though Blaise had an uncertain look on his face. The girls were both seated on the couch, tense and looking between the two boys. All four turned to Harry expectantly.

"He's returned."

"But-! He can't-"

"Rest assured, he can, and _has._" With this, Blaise deflated. Truthfully, Harry knew Blaise just didn't want to accept the truth. Daphne walked over quietly and sat beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, what happened?" Once again, in the barest of details, he retold His resurrection. All had paled when he told them of the Muggle boy.

"What are we going to do?" Millicent said quietly, looking from Harry to Daphne and over to the boys.

"Nothing. We can't do anything. He's the greatest and darkest wizard of our times!" Blaise said, looking crest-fallen.

"No." All turned to Harry.

"We _can_ do something. A war is coming, and either you leave Hogwarts, leave me, leave the country, or you learn to fight. Because anyone and everyone who is near me _will_be a part of the fight." All four looked uneasy. He knew they would ask him to leave, and had accepted it. He'd only known them for less than a year, he was a troubled, unemotional Agent, and the newly risen Dark Lord wanted him. It was only natural, it was the Slytherin way.

"Well, we'll have to have somewhere to train, where do you think is best?" Dale suggested, and the other three pondered.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, we'll need a regular place to train, y'know, and of course, not everyone could be part of it, well, not yet, and I doubt the professors would approve of some of the Darker spells we'll need to know." Daphne looked thoughtfully at Harry. Harry looked at them disbelievingly. Millicent frowned.

"You thought we'd leave, didn't you?" He nodded.

"Give us a bit more credit Harry! You've taught us alot about yourself and the real world, and you're genuinely a good guy! We like you and we've only known you a few months! Harry, you've had a bad life, and if I guess correctly, we're your first real friends. We aren't giving you up. We're all in this war, and we want to be in it at your side." Harry looked from Millicent to Daphne. She was smiling sweetly, her hand now on his opposite shoulder, her arm around him. Dale and Blaise were much the same as Millicent, determined and happy.

He felt glad, in that moment, that he had chosen to pass the carrots to a certain brunette on his first day at Hogwarts.

-------------

A hush fell over the Great Hall as Dumbledore stood. He held his hands up lightly, and all his adoring students quieted.

"My students, friends. I must tell you this, though many of your parents and the school Governors may not wish this to be said to you. But it is what is right. The Lord Voldemort, the greatest Dark Wizard of our century, has returned." A few screams and more than a few shudders met this statement, many people, like the Weasley twins, yelled questions. He held up a hand for silence.

"This act was witnessed by one person, and reliable, dutiful wizard, and he told me his tale in detail." Harry sighed. He hadn't really told Dumbledore. He'd asked Severus to tell him.

"We must prepare for the coming storm. We must not let fear guide us into doing what is easy, not what is right. I will be available to speak on this issue whenever you have need of me." He sat and a clamour of noise began. Frustrated, Harry stood, along with his four friends. They left dinner, and Harry knew all eyes were on him as they pushed open the doors.

-------------

"He's a fumbling old fool! He's going to have the Governors and the parents after his blood! The _Ministry_ doesn't even know yet and he's telling the First Years!" Harry paced. They were, as usual, around the fire in their private make-shift common room. His friends just nodded. He'd been stamping around since they had left the Great Hall half and hour ago. Just then, the wards Harry had placed on the staircase up to their separate Dorms sounded, and all five started. Harry went to the door and opened it before the person outside could knock.

"Ah, Severus, please do come in." The Potions Master scowled.

"I mean to talk to you about that too Harry. In private, Severus is fine. But in front of other students," he nodded meaningfully at the four grinning Slytherins, "I would prefer 'sir' or any other title you wish to give me." Harry was sorely tempted to make up a ridiculous name just for the fun of it.

"Yes sir, of course, sir, right away, sir." He received a glare. His earlier anger almost forgotten now.

"Anyway Harry, I wanted to discuss the situation. Alone, perhaps?" Harry glanced at his friends.

"Err, is it alright if they listen in?" Severus started, but then shrugged noncommittally.

"What are you doing to prepare yourself? Have you gained many allies? How are you going to defeat the Dark Lords legions?"

"Well... I've been professionally trained and unofficially have the status of a level seven hit-wizard. And I'm going yo be training my friends to fight. But as to the question of allies and exactly _how_ I'm going to defeat him... I was hoping all of you would be able to help." He turned to his friends who started.

"Us?" Millicent looked confused.

"Yes. Millicent, you come from the Dark pureblood house of Bulstrode, your father, I know, didn't join the Dark lord before. He's got contacts and many other purebloods respect him. Blaise, your mother has married into several different families and has ties to some of the more prominent pureblood families, also I believe she has ties to France. Dale and Daphne, I know you are both from minor, basically unknown families, but you have contacts throughout this school. You each know more students from the others houses than the rest of us, and you could get help from them." Harry was smiling and they all nodded.

"This is good, but you are going to need to be publicly outed. You need the public's vote, they need to know you, and you need to be the one to tell of Voldemort's arrival. Yes, it'll bring you alot of unwanted attention, but it will give the Dark witches and wizards a different option than going over to the Dark Lord. Just before the Dark Lord was defeated in the first war, the Ministry had banned all Dark Magic from being used, causing the numbers of Death Eaters to swell because they had no other option. Now, teaching these students is all well and good, but you need to be known, and need to be accepted and looked up to. I think that after a few weeks, you need to start inviting more and more people into the group, train selected allies." Harry nodded thoughtfully. It made sense, even though he hated that he would have to be in the public eye. With a start he realised this was his way out of Weir Relations. He couldn't be an Agent when everyone knew his face. He realized he'd miss it. Well, not the killing, but the excitement, getting caught and winning free of the Ministry.

"Well, we have a lot to do and we need to get started. Millicent could you owl..."

-------------

The weeks flew after the announcement, but in that time the atmosphere of Hogwarts changed inextricably. Students were never by themselves, always in twos and threes. More and more fights broke out, disagreements over whether or not to leave, Gryffindors accusing Slytherins, Slytherins sneering at everyone, professors patrolled the halls regularly during breaks between classes, and were always present in pairs after dark, all with small, silver identical watches hanging from chains around their necks, it was speculated these were Portkeys or communication devices.

Harry trained hard, developing new spells using Latin words, existing spells and hours of studying. Harry met with his friends in their free period on Thursday afternoons, in a place Professor Snape had suggested. It was the "Room of Requirement" a room which created whatever the occupant needed. Every time they went there it was the same, large room, lined with Dark Arts, Defence and Physical Combat books to help their training. Harry was pleased with how well his friends learned.

Daphne was feisty and sensitive, not taking well to insults. Her anger made her spells all the more powerful, but it also made her as rash as a Gryffindor. Harry spent every night before bed in the Girls Dorm (which he'd fixed to be pale lime greens and whites, and had spelled to allow him entry) sitting with Daphne and using a variety of Muggle techniques he found helpful, yoga and meditation just a few of them. Millicent would always leave the room as they did this.

Millicent was another woman entirely. She was a timid but sturdy girl, and Harry had fully expected to have to work the most with her into actually attacking something. But she had a determination he couldn't fathom. She lost her tentativeness when she stepped into the Room and attacked without hesitation, she was cool and strong in her attack and had a sturdy defence, she just needed to broaden her spell knowledge.

Blaise was a surprise. He had an avid interest in Ancient Runes, and could draw up a rune circle speedily, even developing his own uses for common runes. His circle for protection was so strong, that it took the strongest stunner from Harry to actually crack it, which Harry was pleased with. He knew some of the Dark Forces were strong, immensely so, but he also knew his own strength. A few more improvements and none but Harry and perhaps Voldemort would be able to break into it.

Dale was studious and kind and Harry had apprehensions about how he would go in a face-to-face battle. But he was, as Blaise had said, "Dead helpful!". He researched and read almost all the books the Room had on offer, and found useful spells and references, found a shield more powerful than Protego (_'Obex Lux!'_), a particularly nasty Compression Hex ('_Cogo__!'_) and many and varied forms of hexes and spells with the intent to hurt of damage.

Harry, meanwhile, decided he needed a new wand. He'd been given an Agent's Wand from Madam Weir, one that was handy, un-Traced and didn't leave a magical imprint behind. But when he received his wand he'd never gotten a spark. It had worked, was usable, but he never felt he got everything he needed out of it. He needed to take a trip to Diagon Alley, and luckily (or not so) a mission presented itself and Harry was required by Weir Relations.

-------------

"Harry! It has been so quiet here without you hulking presence! It is a good thing we got this mission set up, eh? A little retrieval mission, nothing you can't handle, eh?" Harry nodded at the falsely cheery Madam Weir. He had grown to hold her in contempt.

"Where and what is the target?"

"I'm glad you asked Harry my boy. It's in your favourite Department at the Ministry! Our clients need some files removed from the records in the Department of Magical Law enforcement. I lied before; it's actually quite a big job. Ministry criminal records have all sorts of charms making it near impossible to remove the files, but I'm sure you can find a way." Her smile was gone, it was business. Harry inwardly groaned. Yes, he could bypass the wards on the documents, but a Ministry job was always tricky. He'd have to use layer upon layer of Disillusionment charms, an invisibility cloak, all his tricks and then some to make sure he wasn't recognised.

-------------

He entered the Department unnoticed by the red-haired worker and old man also riding the lift. Luckily, the old man had to get off at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Harry, silent and invisible, followed along. Rows of low cubicles lined the floor, memos buzzing about above their heads, the room buzzing with nose and conversation. Three large fireplaces held prominence on one of the walls, which was constantly flaring green and then dying out soon after. Doors lined the rectangular room's other three walls, most with nameplates and some with guards. He dodged passed the Aurors that were walking down the corridor created by the cubicles and soon reached an unmarked door. Opening this, he walked through several deserted corridors until he arrived at his destination, _Magical Records._

He slipped into the room and sealed it from the inside, casting alarm charms and obstructions on the door. He slipped out from under his enchantments and turned, finding himself gaping.

The room was much larger than he expected. It was as large as a Muggle airport hangar, and there were rows upon rows of filing cabinets.

He soon found how the records were sorted. Each section was labelled, such as 'Petty Theft', 'Magical Endangerment', 'Spell Negligence' and the row he was looking for, 'Embezzlement'.

In each section there was listed every last name of all witches and wizards in Britain, from 'Abadel' to 'Zykros'. Coming to halfway down the aisle, he found the last name of his client, opened the drawer and found a relatively small packet of papers.

Looking down at the documents, he calmed his breathing and looked into himself whilst still seeing the papers, and mentally flicked on a switch. His vision was now covered in layers of spells. He had learned at an early age to see magic when it was being used, seeing it in colours and layers. Now, as he looked in the drawer, He saw a deep blue layer, a pea green layer and a royal purple layer. He knew the look of all three. He had to deal with a Securing Charm, a simple Alarm Charm and a heavy Impermeable Charm. Easy enough for a well experienced crook like himself. Grimacing, he set to work.

A short time later, packet of documents safely hidden in his jacket pocket, he walked from the room, noticing the corridor was still empty. As he turned a corner, he saw an Auror moving toward him. Thinking nothing of it, he stopped and was waiting for him to pass before he realized the Auror was staring directly at him.

"_Harry?_" He'd left his invisibility cloak in the room.

"Hello Sirius."

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_Author's Note: Wow! A lot just happened and Harry's being catapulted into the real world! _

_I'd like to thank all those people who are still reading, and to those very few who choose to review, you rock and make me want to write more of my story faster! You are my motivation!_

_Special mention to _the-dreamer4 _for sticking up for me! It was greatly __appreciated :D_

_Well, until the next chapter,_

**Fool**


	8. Emotions

**AN:** Uh... please don't shoot me? I'm a horrible author for leaving you guys hanging like this! RL just got in the way, and I haven't felt kicked by this bunny in quite some time (although I've felt increasing guilt about it . ). Thank you for the reviews I received! Without much further ado, Chapter Eight, **Confusion.**

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Silence. Sirius Black stood in front of Harry, mouth agape. Harry stood with his arms folded, trying to take on a stance that wasn't too hostile. He knew there was every chance he'd have to stun his godfather and ruin the tentative steps they'd taken to forming what he hesitatingly called a 'friendship'. His godfather still looked uncomprehendingly at Harry, and he was beginning to think he wasn't going to speak. Perhaps he should just leave- but Sirius finally spoke, the obvious question falling from his lips.

"W-What are you doing here!" Harry paused. Truth? Lie? Eh. Harry, upon seeing Sirius, had basically thrown his hands up in defeat. This life was not for him. It truly wasn't.

"I came to steal some documents." Sirius' eyes bulged.

"You shouldn't tell me that! I'm an _Auror_, I _have_ to take you in..."

"Yeah, you do, but not as Harry Potter unfortunately." Harry could virtually see his brain ticking over.

"Listen, I know I'll probably lose my job for even _thinking_ of helping you with this but _who_ exactly are you going to be?" Harry smiled and took out his wand – noticing that Sirius stiffened ever-so-slightly when he did this – and cast his favourite glamour, one that Sirius would know oh-so-well.

"_Dably!" _Harry, in his alias's form, grinned.

"But- you aren't actually – you couldn't-"

"Yeah Sirius, I _am_ Dably. Well, I'm Harry, but my pseudonym is, and has been for three years now, Dably." Sirius choked. Harry could see his eyes glaze as he remembered all the times he'd missed capturing Dably, been humiliated, lost money, been stolen from... After some time, he regained his composure.

"Okay, I'll take you in as Dably and you'll most likely _escape_ like you _always_ do, but we are definitely talking about this when you get back to Hogwarts! I'm coming to see you right away!"

Muttering furiously, he took the documents Harry handed him and glanced at the name (which had been changed), his scowl increasing, and he tugged Harry, none too gently, down the hallway, binding his hands and creating wards around his so he couldn't get out.

As they stepped from the room, one person yelled "Dably!" and work ceased, wizards and witches just staring at both himself and Sirius.

"Caught the scoundrel stealing our records! Where was security!? I'll be taking him down to the cells. Tonks, follow me, god knows he's a trickly little bugger." A few cheers were voiced and many authoritative voices called out orders, and then it was all back to normal, as he was taken into the lift, a pink-haired woman standing next to him. He knew by the furious look on Sirius' face he'd have to explain himself.

-------------

Harry returned to Weir Relations after he'd given Tonks the slip (managing to steal the papers and his invisibility cloak in the process) and sighed, walking through the door of what he now saw as his former home.

"Harry! That took much longer than expected! Our clients were getting titchy..." Harry's smile was fake as he and Weir strode toward the Conference room. Dust and Chase passed them on their way through the hall and both called out hellos, Chase demanding a visit, to which he nodded to.

Inside the conference room sat Narcissa Malfoy and two of her associates. As soon as he'd seen the name on the mission assignment he knew it was going to be a troublesome job, and by the impatient look on Mrs. Malfoy's face, it was going to get a little heated.

"Sparks! You took long enough! Madam Weir assured me you were the best, and it would take but two hours! We have been waiting here for five!" Harry's brow creased.

"Mrs. Malfoy, you forget your place. I hold in my hands a hefty mass of documented illegal actions your husband and yourself have done in the past, most of which had never made it to the papers. Should you really be mocking my methods?" Her lips pursed but she said not one thing more. Harry bore on.

"I would just like to re-iterate, to you, and I stress this point, you _are not_ to discuss our arrangement to anyone, unless approved by Madam Weir, or myself, and through the appropriate means. I have heard of your husbands' stupidity, and although he doesn't remember it, I _do._" Mrs. Malfoy paled as she realized the full implications of his sentence, and Harry threw the packet on the table, the woman snatching it and leaving without another word, her associates following nervously behind.

"Harry-"

"Madame Weir. Tonight's mission was rockier than usual, but I got the job done. I took care of the situation with Mr. Malfoy, there is no need for any more actions to be taken. I will not be staying long here.

"But Harry-" Weir started in a disapproving voice, but Harry cut her off again.

"No Madame Weir, I won't hear of it. Owl me if you need me again." He felt the almost undeniable urge to quit, then and there, but he knew he couldn't. He'd leave them without a main source of income, ruin Weir House and probably get killed in the process. Weir was certainly not as feeble as she seemed. Shrugging, he left to visit with Chase.

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By the time he'd returned to Hogwarts, it was one in the morning, and Harry had fallen straight to sleep. Now, as he sat in the Great Hall, he waited for the letter that would undoubtedly come. His fellow Slytherin's noticed the tenseness of their usually stoic housemate and all were wondering what had caused the change. As expected, one of the unmistakable black eagle owls used by Ministry workers broke from the swarm of flying creatures and landed imperiously on Harry's outstretched arm. Ignoring the few stares he received, he took the note and set the owl on the table, where it began eating Harry's breakfast.

_I will be arriving at Hogwarts at twelve. As this is a school day, you will be taken out of classes._

_-S.B_

Harry nodded to himself and tucked the note inside his robe pocket, shooing the owl away. Dale, across from him at the table, raised an eyebrow. He'd told his friends what had happened at the Ministry. Harry was getting to the point where he trusted his four friends with all of his secrets, and all five made daily contributions to their shared Pensieve.

"Sirius is coming at twelve." Dale nodded understandingly and went back to a conversation he'd been having with a girl in a year below them. That was another huge difference in the school. They weren't outcasts within their house anymore, not really. There were still Malfoy supporters, pure-blood fascists, and the general 'I hate everyone' Slytherins. But even the Gryffindors had noticed the change in the general outward appearance of the Slytherins. Friendships that had had to have been kept secret were now surfacing, tentative new friendships were being formed and Grace Madden, a Hufflepuff seventh year and Anthony Valero, a Slytherin seventh year were seen in public kissing, and it was later revealed they'd had a relationship since their fourth year.

Slytherin was changing, and Harry couldn't help but feel that he had partly caused it.

-------------

"Okay, explain." Harry sat down in front of Sirius, who was running a hand through his black hair and trying to look passive.

"I –I think it'll just be easier to show you, okay?" He looked into his eyes quizzically and Harry merely drew his hand out of his pocket, bringing out a miniature rock. Upon enlarging it, it was easily recognisable as the Pensieve. He would take Sirius to four of the five memories he had shown his friends. He smiled and motioned for Sirius to go first, and soon they both tumbled into his memory of Petunia and Vernon's last fight.

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"Harry, you've been at that agency how long?"

"Since I was five."

"And when did you start training?"

"Age five."

"When was your first mission?"

"Theft or assassination?"

"Both."

"Twelve and Fourteen." Sirius paused and Harry opened his eyes. He hadn't even realised he'd closed them.

Sirius was muttering and Harry distinctly heard "too young." Harry waited, giving him time to adjust.

"Do you like it?"

"No."

"Then why are you doing it!?" Sirius stood bolt upright, eyes boring into Harry's, anger burning a hole in Harry's face. Or trying to.

"Because they need me. I haven't had an Assassination job in months, which is fine by me. Sirius, I've gained experience through this job I'm going to need. Voldemort's returned to his body, and he's going to be after me apparently." Sirius's eyes, if possible, widened further.

"Are you sure? The Ministry was certain these were rumours..."

"No, I saw it through a dream. It happened." Before Sirius could ask the obvious, Harry supplied, "I have a kind of connection to him through my cursed scar. It was real."

Sirius shuddered as his eyes flickered upwards to Harry's forehead. Harry couldn't help but wonder at how open he was being with his godfather. Yes, they had begun forming a friendship, but he was also an Auror. Admittedly, he had all but helped Harry escape when he'd been caught, but he was in the Ministry nonetheless.

"Well this is... I'm going to have to do a lot of paperwork. Eh." He seemed fine but Harry saw a flicker of panic cross through his eyes.

"Sirius, I'm not sorry you found out about all this. I wanted to tell you but, well, just not this soon. I mean, we haven't even gotten reacquainted yet. Can we... I don't know, meet up sometimes? Owl each other?" Sirius brightened into a dazzling smile at the thought his godson was prepared to see him. Harry was confused with the emotions he was showing. No, he wasn't the perfect assassin he had been before coming to Hogwarts, but he just didn't show his feelings to a stranger. It just wasn't in his nature. And his godfather was a stranger to him, wasn't he?

---------------

Harry returned to classes for the day but was too distracted to absorb much of the information McGonagall had been trying to teach them. Daphne had been trying to capture him in a conversation whilst they were supposed to be working, but Harry had frowned and shaken his head.

The other three of his friends had homework to finish for Defence against the Dark Arts, which both Harry and Daphne had finished earlier, so after dinner found the two of them sitting beside the fire alone in the Boys Dorm.

"What did Sirius say? You look worried."

"Huh? Oh. Well, he was understandably shocked about my life and everything, but he still wants to talk to me."

"So then why are you so worried?" she was now frowning in confusion at him, and she looked very cute with her mouth slightly parted. Wait, what?

"U-Uh, I don't know. I just… I'm not used to showing feelings to anyone. I've only just started doing so, showing my true feelings, to you four, and Snape and now I'm asking my godfather to visit me, because I want to talk to him and get to know him. He's the one person I've felt a truly strong parental bond with, other than those fleeting moments with my Aunt Petunia, and I guess I just… want it. I want it back." Harry looked down sadly, and he realised within the confines of his mind he was opening up more than he would have liked with Daphne.

He was aware she was moving closer to him, but didn't know what to do. He hoped she wasn't going to hug him. He just didn't _do_ hugs. Her hand touched his shoulder and she knelt in front of him, her face level with his own. She was smiling and slowly wrapped her arms around him. He understood the difference between a friendly hug and a romantic one, and this was squarely in the friendly hug department. Tentatively, he slowly reached around her and awkwardly hugged her back.

"It's ok to want those things. Everybody needs closeness sometime." And just as slowly as she had initiated the hug, she removed her hands from around his shoulders, still smiling sweetly. Understanding he had many things to think over, she stood and left, looking back once to show him her smile again.

This week had been one of the most emotionally draining in his life. He hadn't felt strong emotions in many years, and now Voldemort was back and sicking his familiar on harmless children, his friends had become closer to him, their bond of friendship deepening, Severus was now a good friend and mentor, he'd realised he felt repulsed at his job to the point of quitting, he actually wanted to be a part of his godfather's life, and now there was this situation with Daphne.

In one week, his life had been changed irrevocably, and it was with apprehension that he looked on to the future.

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AN: I apologise for any mistakes in advance, I finally got a spare moment to write this and it is the product of less than a minute's editing so that I could get it out for you all!

I really don't feel as motivated without many _**Reviews**_ so, if you'd be so kind? . -blatantly manipulates her readers-

Wayward Fool


	9. Proud Decisions

_Author's Note: Things get ugly real fast here. This is not the end of the story; I still think there will be quite a few more chapters. __**Warning:**__ Character Death_

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The Slytherin friends were happy falling into the routine of Hogwarts once more, and nothing out of the ordinary happened for another month. Exams were still three months away, and nobody felt the pressure on them yet. It was a breakfast when the Owl Post flew in, and many students noted the larger-than-usual black hawk owl flying toward the Slytherin table. The owl squawked loudly, startling several more students into watching the animal with interest, and the owl finally dove over Harry's head and landed in front of him, with a menacing glare.

The bird just dripped with a hostile attitude, and it had scars littering its body. Harry looked questioningly at his friends, and at Blaise and Dale, who sat on either side of him. Hesitantly, he reached out for the letter and quickly took it, just as the bird took off in a swirl of wings.

Blaise and Dale leaned over, both leaning on him to get a good look at the letter. Harry smiled, thinking about how close they had become. He trusted them so much both of them had now gripped the paper with him and were wrestling to make it easier to see.

_Mr Potter_

_It seems we have a problem. You know I am alive and have talked about the most intimate parts of the ritual to the doddering fool Dumbledore. I am most displeased. I would love to talk to you in person, perhaps you could fit me into you schedule? Better yet, how about coming __**now**_

_Lord Voldemort_

Dale gasped and yelled "The Dark Lord!" and before Harry could throw the parchment away, he felt a jerk behind his navel, and felt squeezed as the timed-Portkey landed them in a dark Hall, where he could see Voldemort sitting on a throne-like chair flanked by two Death Eaters.

A gasp was uttered to his right and he looked, alarmed to note that both Dale and Blaise were with him, having been holding the letter along with him. _Fuck._

"Ah Mr. Potter, I see you brought some friends! Avery, Rookwood, if you would please entertain our additional guests whilst I _play_ with our resident Boy-hero?

------------------------

Daphne and Millicent had been talking quietly when the owl had landed in front of Harry, who sat across the table from them both. Seeing the look of interest on all three of the boy's faces, Millicent had smiled. She watched as they read, and grew concerned by the anger upon Harry's face, and the terrified and horrified looks on both Blaise and Dale's faces and finally she stood when Dale yelled "The Dark Lord!"

Before anyone could say or do anything, the three boys, who now had the terrified attention of the whole Hall, especially the Professors who were striding toward the table, the three of them vanished.

Instant uproar met the disappearance, some screamed whilst others yelled in confusion. The whole Hall looked shocked when the usually stoic Professor Snape swore loudly and stormed from the Hall.

Daphne turned a terrified face toward Millicent and they ended up hugging, clinging to each other. For all they knew, their three best friends were being tortured or killed at that very moment. They may never see any of them again.

------

Two of the Death Eaters had moved, and were now shepherding Dale and Blaise in opposite directions, into a space of their own. Blaise looked terrified but determined, whilst Dale just looked scared. Harry wished he hadn't been brought along. Whilst he knew Blaise would have a chance at defeating his Death Eater, Dale had really only been their researcher, and lacked the anger to fuel his spells.

Voldemort stepped down from the dais and smirked, his red eyes glinting.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. You've been most troublesome. Whilst you haven't bothered me as yet, we both know that sooner or later you would just get in my way. I think its time for me to kill you like I should have all those years ago? But first, why yes, I believe a little _pain_ is in order."

Harry was no slouch when it came to deflecting and dodging spells. He was actually one of the best; it was a very strong area for him. But there was no way he would have been able to dodge the Cruciatus Curse Voldemort sent its way, it was so hate filled.

Harry writhed on the floor, clamping his mouth shout tightly amid the frantic calls of his friends. He would _not_ give the bastard the pleasure of seeing him in pain.

After what seemed like aeons, Harry sagged, still standing but severely wounded. His blood felt like it was boiling and various recent scratches and cuts he had had burst open.

"So, think you are tough, boy? Hm, I guess you need another dose of pain? Something different, I think."

Around him, Blaise was rapidly firing curses at a Death Eater who was swiftly backing up, barely deflecting his attacks and being forced to defend. Dale on the other hand was in a similar position to the other Death Eater, he was being toyed with but still managed to hit his opponent with a Blood Whip before bringing his shield up once more.

"_Cogo_!" Harry knew this spell; Dale had found it many weeks ago. It was the Compression Curse. It squeezed everything, making your body fold in on itself and start to break bones, eventually squishing the body and bursting the heart.

It started at his arms, which immediately sprang to his sides, forcing themselves to wrap around his body and tighten. He felt his arms dislocate so they could continue squeezing. His ribs began to bend painfully, and with a _Snap!_ One of them broke, to be followed by two more. It was pain beyond belief. His mind felt cluttered, his brain tightening painfully.

Then, the compression stopped but the pain continued, and Harry's arms swung uselessly to his sides. He swung his left arm to his right and with an effort, pushed in back in its socket, giving the same treatment to his left.

Madame Weir had taught him well. He had a large pain threshold, but this had surpassed his training. He had never felt the effects of the curse and was glad he hadn't convinced Dale to test it on him.

Voldemort was laughing gleefully, and Harry realised he must have yelled out. Cursing, he slowly moved into a combat position, forgoing his wand. He would be able to wield it much anyway.

His wandless talent burst forth from his body, and without uttering a sound, the severing charm sliced the hand off the dark lord, who hissed in pain and surprise.

"Think that's funny, Harry? You will _pay_ for that _lucky shot!_" But it was too late; Harry had erected a shield and was hurriedly assessing the situation of the other two boys. Blaise was bleeding heavily from a cut in his leg, but his opponent was down and unconscious. He glanced at Harry and grinned, before running over to help Dale, who was bleeding sluggishly from several points, with a broken leg and missing ear.

Harry cursed, his heart hurt to see the state he had brought his friend into. Dale didn't deserve what happened to him. He was innocent and cunning, smart beyond belief. He didn't belong on a battlefield.

Harry glared out at Voldemort and dropped his shield, sending a flurry of curses with were countered and returned seconds later. They duelled fast; Harry began using objects around him to fling at the wizard, hoping to surprise him. It never worked.

Finally, Harry was once again caught by the Compression Curse and yelled, falling to the floor as the pain, which hadn't subsided, increased ten-fold.

He was beginning to lose consciousness and was coughing blood when the curse finally let up. Opening his eyes blearily and getting to his feet, he saw both Dale and Blaise standing proud with their wands in their hands, glaring at the Dark Lord. _Idiots! They should have left!_

"What's this? We have some more playmates? Well, they can't miss out on the fun!" Voldemort sent a bludgeoner at Dale who flew three feet away, landing with a heavy _Thump!_ Blaise, however, was dealt with a Cruciatus Curse, and screamed within seconds of it being administered. Voldemort cackled and Harry felt defeat, his magic used up with the effort to keep himself alive. He started stumbling over to the two, when a black blur flew and clung on to Voldemort, binding his arms and legs.

Dale was wrapped around the man and was looking right at Harry, mouthing "I am proud."

Harry swore and moved as fast as he could, but it was too late. Dale had yelled a curse; one used for an explosion of some kind, and had self-detonated.

One moment the sixteen-year old Harry had considered a best friend was there, mouthing his last words, and the next, he was gone in a pink mist and uplifted stonework.

Blaise had yelled out, and had been covered in rubble. Voldemort was bleeding profusely, the arm Harry had already taken a hand from a mangled mess, his torso sporting large rips and his robes had been burnt. He was also lying on the floor several feel away.

Knowing this was the only chance they would get; Harry slipped into mission-mode and forgot about the pain. He couldn't think about it.

He ran over to Blaise, who was crying unashamedly, and Harry collected his wand and called out to the Portkey, which would take them right back where they had left from.

The centre of the Great Hall.

---------

They arrived in a heap, and Harry looked up dazedly to find the students were still gathered in groups in the Hall, obviously in lock down mode. There were yells and roars as Harry and Blaise landed, bleeding profusely, grimy and Harry soon realised, crying.

Harry stood, not willing to let himself to be seen as weak, but stumbled into the grasp of someone, who turned out to be Professor Snape.

"What happened? Where is Dale?!" Harry choked back a sob.

"Gone. H-He blew h-himself and Voldemort up." Everyone had hushed to hear him, and again screams rang out, but none as terrible as the one emitted by Millicent and Daphne, who had pushed their way through the crowd.

"Nooooo! Not Dale! No!" Millicent was sobbing on the ground with Daphne, and Harry couldn't stand up any longer. Blaise had already passed out, and Harry gratefully followed. His last thought was not of how brave and courageous Dale had looked. But how he had looked sad and scared beyond belief.


End file.
